The Return of Something Once Lost
by 15elliotta
Summary: The inevitable storm has approached as Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes prepare themselves for a difficult battle to defeat one who shall try to overthrow Great Britain with her growing army. As lives are lost and challenges of the greatest kind are faced, who will prevail: Good or bad?
1. Rise

**Ladies and Gentlemen, Boy and Girls, the second part of Vengeance is Mine is finally here. For those who have not read part one, I shall scream to you STOP RIGHT HERE! Major spoilers for the first part is immediately ahead, and you should read the first part first. Since I love all of you so much, think link is right here: s/9651733/1/Vengeance-Is-Mine. Anyways, for those who are ready to move on, all I say is this:**

**Enjoy...**

* * *

The chants grew louder as she looked down upon her people. She stood tall and strong, her pride illuminating off her slender body. She smiled smugly at the people who stood in front of her, screaming in anger and pledging their allegiance to her. And then she spoke.

"My people, may I guide you through the darkness and into the light of a new era! We have been suppressed for so long, for too long, and it is time for us to take back what belongs to us. Who will come with me to support my cause, to lead the others too scared to join us? Who will be by my side as venture to the unknown, to the better for all of us? Come with me and I will fight for you! I shall fight for all our rights, be by your side. I promise you this and so much more!" Julianne exclaimed in a passionate voice, making the crowd below her crazed with unfathomable joy and desire. "So who's with me?!"

The crowd responded just the way she wanted to; screaming and throwing their fists in the air in fury and with allegiance to her.

Her army was growing.

* * *

It was a late morning in March at the premise of Baker Street when a man cleared his throat. John looked at his flat mate, the newspaper blocking the detective's face.

"Something wrong Sherlock?" John asked softly, not looking up from his laptops.

"What are you blogging about this time John? A case naturally but which one?"

"The one last week with the-"

"Oh God John I told you not to blog about the unsolved ones!" he exclaimed sharply.

"As I have told you before Sherlock, it makes you seem more human. People are looking for that sort of thing, especially after the thing with… Moriarty." John said the name quietly. He almost shuddered when he heard the name.

It had been over three years since Sherlock jumped off the roof of Saint Bart's Hospital, and over a year that he revealed to the world that he had cleverly faked his suicide. Sherlock Holmes was definitely a genius, and he proved it by beating his worst nemesis, James Moriarty.

John shifted his weight in his chair, and Sherlock cleared his throat yet again. The name of Moriarty both made them uncomfortable, since they both knew that there was an oncoming storm that they were both going to face.

And that storm had a name, Julianne Walker, step sister of the infamous James Moriarty. The woman that killed one man that Sherlock had cared for as a friend. When the detective would close his eyes at night, he could see the scene of Harold's death play right before his eyes: The look in Harold's eyes when he found out who Julianne really was, the anger and pain was so great he lashed out, charged at her with his knife unsheathed. Sherlock would see the gun that Julianne skillfully pulled out, and the warmth of the blood on his skin and sharp crack of the gun echoed across the room. It was all a clear and horrid memory that haunted him, and he made a promise at Harold Wilston's grave on that cold November day. And that word was vengeance. And he would stop Julianne.

Both were aware of the tension in the room, and John was thankful when Mrs. Hudson's cheery voice rang through the quiet flat. "Oh Sherlock look at the mess you've made now!" she tisked as she looked at the table full of chemistry glassware. "I hope you cleaned out the fingers in the fridge like I told you to, young man!"

"Mrs. Hudson if you would be so kind as to getting John and I a cuppa." Sherlock said with a distracted tone.

"Sherlock I am your landlady, not your housekeeper!" she called back, her voice ringing.

"With biscuits please!" John shouted back, making sure she could hear him through the kitchen.

The landlady sighed. "Fine, but just this time boys."

Sherlock smiled when he heard the patter of feet going down the stairs. "Look at this John, something interesting."

"What is it?" he finally looked up from his computer to the detective in the room."

"A black cat was stolen from a little girl and is being desperately searched for." He slammed his hand down on the coffee table next to him. "We have found our next case John! Phone Lestrade and tell him to send over his best men!" he explained in an extremely mocking tone.

"Very funny Sherlock."

"Uh God John I am so bored!" he was antsy in his seat. "I need a case, and these papers aren't helping. Uhh London is so boring!"

"In my opinion I find that a very good sign for now…" John indirectly referred.

The consulting detective looked upon the doctor, and knew exactly what he was talking about. "The sooner she acts the better. I want her defeated." he said very quietly.

"Yes well it will come soon enough. She has been silent since last November."

"That gives her months to plan. Anyways…" Sherlock added to change the subject. Thumping was heard, and Mrs. Hudson entered the small living room with a tray full of biscuits and tea.

"Here dearies but remember just this once."

John chuckled, knowing that wasn't the case. Sherlock threw down his paper in frustration, and picked up his violin irritated. He picked up his bow, strode to the window, and played a Bach piece. Mrs. Hudson hummed to the melody, as it was a well-played piece in the flat. John took a sip of his tea and continued to write his blog. And soon enough, Mrs. Hudson went back to her chores downstairs.

The music stopped sharply, and the doctor looked up. "What is it Sherlock?"

"We are in for a long year John," and Sherlock said nothing more on the matter.

* * *

A man glanced at the paper in front of him, scowling. He sat in his most comfortable chair in the Diogenes Club, a meeting of older gentlemen in a room where talking is forbidden. He took another sip of his smooth whiskey and he set the piece of nice paper down. He used his free hand to rub his eyeballs, his stress level alarmingly high as it always was during this time of year. But there was something new on his plate, but not one where he concerned about majorly.

A man walked up to him and cleared his throat. Mycroft Holmes look at the standing man, the familiar old friend wanted to speak to him in private. The government agent stood up and grabbed the letter, and he followed his friend into the other room.

"Greetings Linus. I was not expecting to see you today."

"Ah yes Mycroft. I thought I would pay you a visit. I have not seen nor heard from you in a while."

"We've all been busy. I haven't gotten around to calling you yet, and I do apologize."

"Oh there is no need Mycroft. I do forgive you." Linus smiled. "You know, after all these years and my position in the government, even I am not sure about where you are in office."

The other man smiled. "Sometimes I don't either," he subtly joked. "In my opinion it is somewhat of a minor position."

"Well of course. Naturally."

"How may I help you this fine March day, Linus?" Mycroft questioned, but by deducing the way that his friend stood and the way Linus's fingers shook, he knew exactly why he was here.

"I assume that you have gotten a letter from a concerning party?"

"I have just read it, yes."

"And what do you think of it?"

"Nothing more than just mere letters on a page my dear friend," Mycroft lied.

"If you say so, but I do beg to differ," replied Linus, with a tint of concern in his words.

"What I am saying is that we do not worry about it yet. Uprisings can always falter quickly since several factors are involved. And when that does, it will fall immediately. I encourage you not to panic over this letter," Mycoft picked up the letter pointedly. "As I said, just letters on a page. Nothing more Linus. Is that all?"

The older man cleared his throat. "I do believe so. Shall we go out for lunch sometimes, just as old friends as we are. To catch up with what has happened in our lives over the years?"

"I shall love to old friend. I shall love to."


	2. Patiently Awaiting for Something New

The soft jazzy music was playing in the background of Gabriel's, John Watson's favorite Italian restaurant. There he sat patiently, waiting for his Mary Morstan to show up. He could never get that woman out of her mind; her soft smile and glowing eyes always made his heart flutter, and he felt as if he had found his soul mate. He finally found love, and he couldn't be happier.

She walked across the room, her head held high, her bright smile always brightening the room. He looked at her with loving eyes, and the rosy blush of her cheeks painted her face. _God she is so beautiful_, he thought to himself. She laughed like she knew exactly what the doctor was thinking.

"You like my new dress," she looked down at her knee length black dress, tight around her stomach, then puffing out at her hips. And John could not keep his eyes off of her.

"Gorgeous," he breathed out. "Absolutely gorgeous." John stood up and went behind her, kissing Mary's cheek and tucking her in when she sat down on the seat. "How are you, Mary?"

"I've been good. The school children were somewhat crazy today, but thank goodness it is a Friday. I swear though, not one of the teachers knows what they are doing!"

"Then you should become the principal of the school," he suggested.

"Yeah, I wish," she added, shaking her head. "Oh well, they will figure out sooner or later that yelling at the children instead of properly punishing them will have a negative outcome in the end."

Back and forth they talked about how the day went, how John's new job was going, and about other stuff that only normal people would find interesting.

"So the nurse said to Mrs. Wethers, my patient, to-" he stopped midsentence, as he heard a familiar voice approach them. He cocked his head in frustration, and huffed out a breath.

"Hello John, Mary," Sherlock added, nodding at the woman.

"Sherlock, I am kind of busy at the moment."

The detective took the seat between them. "Yes, so I see but John, I have a case!"

"How many times do I have to lecture you Sherlock about interrupting us, I am on a date with Mary for Christ sakes! Your cases can wait another time."

"John this is important-"

"Sherlock, this has been the fifth time this year that you have taken me away from a date," John said in a hushed tone, trying to conceal his anger.

"John-"

"The. Fifth. Time. Sherlock," he separated his words to add a point. And Sherlock just stared, almost as irritated as John Watson himself.

Mary Morstan sat there, trying her best not to laugh at loud. The boys bickering was hysterical to her, and the two were aware of that fact. "John, it's alright. Go along with Sherlock. We can have a makeup date for this." She looked at Sherlock. "You so owe me."

The detective could only smirk, and he stood up. "So that's that. Let's go John!"

The other man stood up hesitantly, and pecked Mary's lips. "Until next time then?"

"Of course," and she caressed his cheek.

Sherlock had to practically drag his partner out of Gabriel's, not wanting to leave John with his girlfriend for another almost snogging session.

"Sherlock, would you hold on? Let go- Let go of my arm dammit! What was that for?"

"I didn't want you to get all flustered right there in the restaurant, when I actually need you for a case."

He ignored that comment. "What case?"

"Something interesting. We need to go undercover."

"Undercover? I am in my nicest clothes!"

"They are not nice enough. I got you a tux."

"A tux," John asked uncomfortably. "Did you get my right size?"

"Your right size? Well why would you ask that? Of course I got your right size!"

"Are you sure? Because, well, do you even know your own size of…" his voice faded off, not knowing how to refer to his partner's tightness of his shirts.

"What are you trying to say John?" Sherlock oblivious to the hint.

"Um, nothing." John only responded. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a short moment, and then Sherlock continued.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat, "as I was saying, we are going undercover as servants in a party."

"And where is this party?"

"It is near London, at the Magnussen Manor."

"I've never heard of it before."

"Well of course not. Your average mind isn't observant enough. That is why I am here," he said nonchalantly.

All the doctor did was he rolled his eyes. He was far more than used to receiving these types of comments from the ignorant consulting detective. It was the price of being best friends with a genius. "And what is the case about, if I may ask?"

They walked the London streets, and Sherlock explained. "Charles Magnussen has been on my radar for quite a while. He has been a nuisance to many, and no matter how much I try, I cannot get any evidence on him. He is smart, but I am smarter," he added, with a smile on his face. "And I think he has finally tripped up. They all do."

He continued to talk as he hailed a cab. "So our goal is to sneak into the party unnoticed, disguise ourselves as waiters, and sneak into his office. I heard the compromising information is located there, and once we get it, we can get the hell out of there and continue with our boring lives. Okay?"

"Yes yes fine Sherlock, but I don't like it. It's dangerous, not to mention illegal."

"Since when of what we have done been legal? Once, Lestrade will vouch for us. He owes me more than a few favors."

John smiled slightly at that. It was true. Without Sherlock Holmes, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade would be in a pit full of unsolved cases, and they all knew that. "Fine, but we will get this over with as soon as humanly possible."

"Yes John, of course." And they arrived at the Magnussen Manor, the entrance busy, filled with cars and drivers. "As soon as we get into the mansion, it will be busy enough that no one will notice. We will find a bathroom and change. Then we will blend in."

"Got it," John nodded his head, and they jumped out of the cab.


	3. An Awkward Night

As the two men snaked through the crowd of fancy looking people, John desperately searched for a bathroom with Sherlock, his tuxedo wrapped in his arms. Sherlock found one immediately, and the doctor silently cursed his small height.

"In here John, this should be good."

When they entered, John almost had to place a hand under his jaw. Even the bathrooms in this mansion were gorgeous. The golden black marble floor held their feet strongly, and the dimmed lights made the washroom seem more comforting. Sherlock just shook his head.

"John, you really need to shut up. Your thoughts are screaming in this room, and I can't think."

"Oh for Gods sakes Sherlock…" John only just rubbed his eyes, and he entered into a stall. "So tell me again what the plan is."

The consulting detective only huffed an agitated breath. He always hated to repeat himself. "John, as I have said previously, we are disguising ourselves as waiters, serving the food and passing out drinks, and all that other boring stuff," he waved a dismissive hand at no one. "We will locate Charles Magnussen, and once we know that he is occupied, we will break into his office and grab the material."

"And what exactly is this material, Sherlock?" He stepped out of the stall, and went to the mirror so he could tie his bow tie.

"I will tell you when we get there."

"Which means you don't exactly know what it is."

"I never said that-"

"Yes, but I have known you for years. You truly are an idiot."

"And you're an idiot for coming with me."

"Point taken, but you did in fact drag me out of my date."

"She gave me permission," Sherlock responded curtly.

John only shook his head and chuckled. The detective had a sharp mouth and the maturity complex of a twelve year old at times. He finished up with his bow tie, and Sherlock strode into the stall afterwards. John continued to talk.

"Will there be one time that I can have a date with my girlfriend in peace?"

"Yes, when you finally propose to her," Sherlock mockingly sneered while he pulled his dress clothes on. John only went quiet. "John… You're not going to-" he voice trailed off.

"Sherlock, I think I've found the girl of my dreams," John blurted.

"But. But. It's Mary!"

"And Mary means everything to me."

The stall cracked open, and Sherlock slowly stepped out. "You are serious about this then?"

"I am," John only responded, waiting for the other man's reaction.

"I am happy for you then. My biggest congratulations to you," and the detective looked at John with his piercing blue eyes. "I mean it." And he did.

The doctor shifted his weight, somewhat uncomfortable in the position he was in. "Thank you Sherlock. That does mean a lot to me."

It was Sherlock's turn to put his bow tie on. It took him a while to get his skilled fingers to put, as he called it, "the blasted most pathetic piece of material he has ever laid hands on" on. And John only stood to the side, smiling.

* * *

A man who stood tall with a glass of champagne, with his smugness and self-empowering extremely present to all those who talked to him. He was an older man, with his gray hair present in his hair and light beard. Behind his eyes, one could see his coldness, the light of playfulness in his eyes as he liked to watch other squirm and surrender to his demands. He was truly the most the most notorious and cruel blackmailer in all of Britain, and just possibly the world. And that man had an eye on some prey. And Magnussen would get what he wanted from his victim.

"Charles, darling, is there anything I can get you?" a woman beside him asked, and he looked at her.

"Ah, Agatha, not at the moment, thank you. All I need you to do tonight is to relax and keep an eye out for any mischievous activity."

"Yes sir, as always," his maid said in return, and nodded her head.

He looked at her completely. Her fiery red hair stuck out in the crowd, and her tight short dress outlined her body, barely leaving anything to the imagination. "Well go along now Agatha, you know what to do…"

* * *

It was John who finally spotted the host of the party. Charles Magnussen was near the table of party snacks eating a piece of cheese when John pointed him out to Sherlock. Sherlock's hands were occupied with a tray of drinks, and he looked at John, telling him to keep an eye on their target as he went back into the kitchen.

John did so patiently, and his companion was hasty enough to be back by John's side in the matter of minutes.

"He is busy with a future business partner at the moment. Now is our time to go."

"Let's get this over with," the doctor sighed. They looked around, checking their surroundings for the all clear, and they jogged up the stair steps somewhat concealed from plain view.

It took them only a minute to find the gigantic room that housed Magnussen's office. Once again, John was in awe of the spectacular room he stepped in.

"Seriously though, how in the world do you get so much money to work in _this_ environment?" he asked no one in particular.

"By blackmailing the right people John. The rich ones who won't go to the police because the evidence held against them are so deep." Sherlock responded with his voice distant. His head was already buried in the file cabinets and drawers that were once locked.

The doctor just bounced on his toes and waited, somewhat keeping a look out for anyone that might come. "Sherlock, this is so illegal, and from what I've heard from you tonight, this isn't safe."

"Since when do we do "safe" John? I didn't even think that was a term in my line of work…"

"Oh just please hurry up!"

And ten minutes passed with Sherlock scavenging for the material he was searching for, so far unsuccessful, and John looking around the office, still awe stricken about the lavish office that the criminal had. John sighed heavily in impatience, and Sherlock growled in impatience. They didn't even hear the door open they were so focused on what they were doing.

"You want to know what I find interesting," an unfamiliar voice rang into the office. Everything froze, and John was too afraid to look at where the low voice was coming from. "I specifically hired fifteen waiters tonight to serve at my party, and there are fifteen downstairs at this moment. When I saw seventeen earlier, I was wondering who were the rats that let themselves in. I thank you for showing me unintentionally!"

Sherlock's head slowly popped up behind the desk, and he looked at the tall man that owned the office. "Ah Charles Magnussen, I was hoping we would run into each other soon. But unfortunately, not under this pretext."

"As I live and breathe! The infamous Sherlock Holmes, desperately searching my office to save a woman from a good scandal. How noble of you." The blackmailer mocked. "And this man must be Doctor John Watson," he added, looking at the man that was faced away from him. "So, how successful was your search?" Charles asked lightheartedly.

John turned around to face the man, and Sherlock answered. "You know the answer to that."

"Well of course I do. This is my premise; I know where everything is located at all times, _especially_ my work. Don't underestimate my capabilities Mr. Holmes; it may land you into some trouble."

"And I don't," he responded while clearing his throat.

Charles pointed at the door. "I am assuming you know your way out then?"

Sherlock strolled with his head high to the door. Before he stepped through, he faced Magnussen. "We shall be meeting again I assume?"

"Only naturally Mr. Holmes. I have a few tricks up my sleeve specifically for you…"

The detective only stared at him lamely and sniffed. "Come along John. I have suddenly lost interest in this party."

John stalked his best friend out of the room, and they left the mansion as soon as possible. John's face was hot red with embarrassment. And that was one hell of an awkward night…


	4. The Foundations of a Kingdom

She sat slumped in her chair… or her throne as she called it. In her kingdom, or warehouse as it was now, it was empty besides the seventeen year old girl and her loyal companion by her side. Her eyes were a fierce green; her hair curled naturally and dyed a red brown. She liked to think of it as the blood of those who have done wrong in the world painted her hair, and she was proud of it; she wore it like a trophy. Her fingers tapped on the armrest of her chair, and she looked at the large empty cement floor that lay in front of her. Sebastian Moran shifted his weigh, and Julianne looked at him.

"I have been waiting patiently for my army to grow, and it is almost complete," she said to no one in particular.

"Yes, yes it is. I myself have been waiting for this moment also. Your brother would be proud."

"If Moriarty was to see me now, would he really be that proud of me?" Julianne questioned, suddenly very curiously.

"Of course. And he would be happy that I trained you well…"

She sighed, once again uninterested. "I did run the Pythons quite well, haven't I? I raised enough money for everything, even my army, in half the time my brother expected. And I am damn proud of myself! Uggghhhhh…" she shifted into an interesting position on her chair, with her legs draped over her left armrest. "I am so. Incredibly. Bored! Is this how James felt before he started messing with Sherlock's mind?"

"I think he was more bored than you are. You seem to be enjoying the fact that you have been extremely successful in running a ginormous drug trade organization in London, actually the biggest in Europe."

"Oh Seb, I can take down the government soon. It's so close I can taste it. If only this process was faster…" she paused, and sunk into a deep thinking. "Uggghhhhhh," she finally moaned after a few minutes.

"What is it, Moriarty?" the hit man questioned her.

"Don't call me Moriarty, I am not my brother. I was moaning because I have to talk to that blasted Mycroft soon. Never spoken to him directly before, always with letters. It should be interesting I hope. I've heard he can be quite a buzz kill."

"I am surprised you have never texted him before. You are always on your phone."  
"Yeah, well I like to be old fashioned with cases like this. After I can get through him and Scotland Yard, we are in the all clear to move on with our plans. But then there is Mycroft's brother…"

"Yes, Sherlock Holmes, what are you planning to do with him?" Sebastian Moran asked somewhat quickly; he was curious about the answer.

"I don't plan to play him like my brother for one thing. James learned that lesson in the grave. I will probably be straight forward with him. If he gets in my way, I will bring his world down without hesitation. So many people are at my disposal, he would be a complete idiot to stop me. Maybe offer a few ultimatums… Those are always fun."

"Yes, no doubt you already have something planned."

"I at least have a few tricks up my sleeve. What type of revolutionary leader would I be if I didn't have that?!" she laughed.

"Starting to call yourself 'revolutionary' eh? Want to sound better than being called a terrorist?"

"As much as I would love to call myself that, there is an image I must contain. If I start going around spilling all my plans, I would need a hell of a lot more money to manage what we're about to do."

Sebastian only laughed and shook his head. "That is true Julianne. Too too true."

"But anyways," she continued, her voice low, "I wish that this process was quicker. It's annoying…"

"Think about it this way: If there wasn't so much time in between all of our steps, our organization would get squashed immediately. And there is no need to rush a good thing."

"I suppose that's true," she sighed her irritated sigh. "Mycroft Holmes. Visiting him soon."

"Why do you sound so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous!" Julianne snapped back. "Just annoyed. But I do look forward to the look on his face when I tell him to step down from office. I should sneak a camera in there so I can relive the moment, over and over again. And then maybe I can talk in the Diogenes Club's meeting room, give a few older men heart attacks," she joked.

"Sounds like a charming idea. Have you decided what you are going to say to Mr. Holmes yet?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Julianne changed the subject again. "Go call someone to feed me grapes or something. That's what kings get don't they? People that feed 'em grapes? I've always loved my fruit," smiling, she kicked at her seat. She sniffed, and continued. "You have taught me well. Are you proud of your creation?"

"I am proud of anyone of Moriarty's blood. I am proud to serve you and guide you through your task. I am proud that-"

"Yeah yeah I get it," the impatient teenager mumbled. They both looked at each other and their tacit agreement was shared through their eyes. They both smiled. "This world will be ours, it will be at our mercy. But for now, we deal with this." She waved her right hand around the empty warehouse.

"Mind you that there is a rally again tonight. We have more members…"

"It's amazing what money and frenzy can buy."

"It comes with a good leader, one who can add motivation with a ting of fear in a crowd's heart," Moran added.

"Naturally, I can do fear. They are all fools to believe that I will help them out in the end. In my eyes, they are just pawns going on a suicide mission. Those poor people don't know that it is either side that will kill them; the government or me. Anyways, they are all dead…"

"There is just no mercy in your wrath, is there?"

"Of course not Seb! If I had mercy I would be so so weak. You've taught me better than that!" Julianne exclaimed.

"Yes I have, as your brother has taught me."

"I wish I would have known him better. I only knew him for a couple days before he… you know…"

"I do. It is a shame, but he killed himself for a reason. And he has you to complete his legacy."

"No. It is my legacy. He wanted to have fun, but I mean business. That is the difference we have as siblings. I was raised by a man who ran a business. I may have hated my adopted family, but I did learn a few things from Liam," she sneered at her adopted father's name. The mentioning of him made her fierce with anger.

"You will release your anger when it is time, Julianne. Keep it bottled inside; it will motivate you to do much greatness in your future. Liam is dead and by Harold's hands."

"It was very poetic, wasn't it," she smirked smugly, once again her mood dramatically shifted. "I always have the perfect plans."

"And that is the pure truth." Sebastian Moran encouraged.

"Patience is key for this type of business… and what a hell of a time that we have had together. After all these years and look where we are now. I can smell the war at a distance, my mouth waters for it. It is almost time."

"Yes it is Julianne… Yes it is…"

In response, she only laughed. "Soon… Very very soon…"


	5. Manipulation is Key

Sherlock busted through his flat door at 221B Baker Street with his loyal companion behind it.

"No, I was wrong about one thing," John panted, and sat down on the leather sofa when he entered the living room.

"And what was that?" Sherlock asked, somewhat curious.

"That was definitely the most idiotic and dangerous thing I have ever done in my life. For God sakes Sherlock we go caught!"

"Yes… well I fear we will have to suffer the consequences later. For now, I got my data."

"Data? Sherlock, what in the world are you talking about?" As always, John Watson was confused as ever.

"Do you really think I would break into Charles Magnussen's office just for one single case? By going through his things, I understand his personality better."

"Mind sharing then, if you please?"

"He has had a very long and successful career because he is smart and careful. He has no remorse for his actions, _obviously_, and has never felt guilty for anything in his adult life. His childhood was hard, and he tries to hide himself from it, hence why there are no pictures of anyone in his life after the age of twenty. He has a weakness for alcohol, and likes to drink his whiskey. I can go on, but I do not wish to bore you, my dear Watson."

"So not only did we break in to find evidence that was so well hidden, but your main cause for going there was to do a psychoanalysis on a blackmailer. I fail to understand-"

"Your average-mind John! Think! With this information, it will be easier for me to root him out, and throw him into jail. He has had plenty enough victims, and I am sure they all want closure. I am not doing this just because it is an interesting case."

John sighed, and he laid down on the couch. "You are so intolerable at times, you know that?"

"You still live with me."

"Sadly."

"You like the adventure, the danger."

"I shall say again, sadly."

The consulting detective smiled at that. "So about Mary, you think she is the one for you?"

"I know you are changing the subject, and yes. I have known for a long time."

"When are you going to propose? Wait let me guess: Given the fact that the ring is on you at all times, you haven't decided yet. You want to ask her, but you are too afraid knowing about her career and yours. Although, I believe that this logic is stupid, you trying to find an excuse for not doing it."

"And I will also say this again. You are so intolerable at times." John sighed, angry that Sherlock always knew.

"Yes, well, that is my job."

"You do make a passion for being an annoying dick-"

"All the time, I have heard time and time again."

The doctor chuckled and stared at the ceiling. "What do you think Magnussen is going to do?"

Quietness filled the flat for so long that John looked at Sherlock with some concern. "I honestly have no clue. I guess it will be a surprise."

"I've never liked surprises…"

"Me neither John. Me neither."

* * *

"Are the preparations almost ready, Seb?" Julianne asked in a hushed tone. She hid behind a stage as shouts were heard. It was her rally, and the crowd called for only one person. Her.

"Of course," Moran responded nonchalantly.

"There are a lot of men here that are not trained with a weapon. You will help the professionals train them with our shipment of guns. I want them well trained. I require a well-disciplined army, and I know you can keep track of the things that need watching. I can handle the rest."

"I understand Julianne," he bowed his head. "Your people call for you."

"The sound of cheering, of anger, of frenzy. That's what helps me fall asleep at night. I long for the sound of guns shots, the smoke rising over the city of London." She stopped herself. "You're right. My people call for me. You know the plan. I will see you in a week. Good luck."

Julianne watched as the hit man left her, stalking to the door and waving. She nodded her head, and she headed to the stage. And the crowd went nuts.

The previously empty cement floor was filled with hundreds of people, the warehouse loud and lively for people looking for a revolution. The teenager looked around at her surroundings, and she instantly felt at home. Her breath became heavy, her mind only on the passion of what she was about to say. She smiled her smug little smile. _Those fools._

And then Julianne spoke. "My people! Welcome!" She raised her hands, and the mob settled down, desperate to hear her precious words. "Thank you for all coming today. We must have a little chat about a few important things tonight.

"Our government has suppressed us citizens for many years, and it is time for the people to rule! We have been treated unfairly. Homelessness has increased dramatically, our rights are taken away, we are monitored in everything we do! Hell, privacy is only a mere fantasy these days!" She paused, and her people went wide with anger. She raised her hands again.

"We must show the government who really runs this country. We fear the government when we shouldn't have to! As the people of this corrupted nation, it is our duty to take back what is rightfully ours!" Julianne through a fist in the air for emphasis, and so did the rest of the mob. "For all of those who have shown up tonight, you are all brave. You are all smart. You want to take a better direction for us, for our future. Our children will look back on this historical day, and they will be proud to know that a mother, a grandfather, an aunt, an uncle were here today, doing this for them! Let us show London, England, Europe, hell, the rest of the world what we stand for. So I ask you; who is with me tonight? Who will pledge their allegiance to me, to take charge of their lives? Who will come with me to lead the others too scared to stand up for themselves? For those who do join my organization, you will go down in history, to be admired by so many thousands of years from now!"

People screamed in the frenzy Julianne created. Her words struck the hearts of many, and already people would lay their lives for her. She waited once again for her crowd to calm down until there was a soft mummer of voiced.

She stated softly, and the people leaned in to hear her better. "My people, we have been treated horribly for so long… Don't we deserve better?" Julianne faked a few tears, and her mob felt much sympathy towards her. "The government abused my parents, tortured my dear poor brother. And there is one man who is behind that. That man is a major influence on the British Government. And he is responsible for the death of my family." She stopped once again, and shed a few more tears. She gained her composure again. The seventeen year old cleared her throat and began again. "Should it be these types of corrupt politicians that should run our country? I don't know about you, but I feel that we deserve better. You may ask why I dedicate my time to this, and I will answer. I want to prevent any other injustices that could, and will occur, if the government is not stopped. I do this for you," she pointed at the crowd, "because you all deserve better. So I shall ask again; who is with me?"

Everything was dead silent, the crowd so wrapped up in the emotional speech that this beautiful young girl just gave.

"I am," a strong voice said, finally breaking the silence. Julianne looked up, the fake tears still in her eyes.

"And so am I," another voice announced.

"And I!"

"And me too!"

Then the crowd began to get louder and louder, starting off softly until people were yelling, swearing themselves to her.

"Thank you… Thank you!" Julianne finally cried. "I need your attention again please! There is a book besides the stage. Print your name into it, and your name shall go down in history! Make the ones around you and the future proud of your choices! With the strength of my people, we will prevail!"

She stepped off the stage, and the crowd made way for her. She walked over to the big book located on a podium located next to the stage, picked up the pen, and signed her name. She turned around, and she left to go backstage. It was hours before the last person had left, with over four hundred signatures. She smirked to herself. This wasn't even including the member of the Pythons, and there were several hundred of them at her disposal. _Tonight was a successful night and there shall be several more like it… _


	6. A Meeting Amougst Future Enemies

If there was one thing true thing said about the rally Julianne Walker created, it was that the government always watched. And Linus Bentley was informed on the events that occurred. And naturally, he fled to Mycroft Holmes for advice.

"Tell me exactly from the beginning, Linus. My people have not filled me in completely yet," Mr. Holmes said. He was calm in this situation, knowing that his friend may have overreacted to the news.

"She, this Julianne Walker, has been stirring up trouble in the past few months. Sources say she is creating an army for some terrible things. She has much power, and sees herself as a revolutionary figure."

"What terrible things exactly?"

"The rumors are rare since her organization is so tight. The only thing we got from our insiders was about some sort of dangerous plot, but that is all."

"And does Ms. Walker have a very passionate cause for all of this? Can she manipulate people into believing anything she wills?"

"Yes Mycroft."

"Then consider your moles as traitors or dead. From the letters I have been receiving from her, it is quite clear the intentions she wishes. She is a fierce leader, and either she will convert those that have wanted to go against her, or she will root them out and kill them. As you said, her organization is tight. Ms. Walker would know exactly when and where a mole would be placed. I am afraid that I have underestimated the skills of this teenager. So I shall fix the situation."

"Mycroft, I don't think it is that easy."

"Ah, but my dear Linus, you have known me for years. Do not doubt my capabilities," Mycroft replied, not in the least concerned.

"I don't," Linus only answered, but still there was doubt in his voice. "But I sense danger coming, and not of any kind we have seen before."

"And I will assure you yet again that you are overreacting. Take a look back in history. It is very rare to have a successful revolt. There are many factors involved, including me. Do not worry about it. If you will excuse me, I do have work to do."

Mr. Bentley understood, and he bid his ado. He left hastily, and Mycroft sighed. "You can come out now, Ms. Walker."

He strode to his desk, and took a seat. Soon after, the creak of the closet door signified that it had been open. "Have a seat please," the elder man waved his hand to the seat in front of him.

"How sweet of you to offer. You are quite the gentleman, unlike most," Julianne Walker said coolly with a smile on her lips. "How are you doing today, Mr. Holmes? I have been so looking forward to talking to you face to face."

"As was I. You have made an impression on my office."

"Which I'm sure does not matter, since you hold such a _minor_ position in the government," the teenager laughed, and she licked her lips. "Tell me Mr. Holmes, when are you going to stop spreading that awful lie? You are horrible at lying you know. You need a better poker face…"

"And this is coming from a girl who plans what exactly?" inquired Mycroft.

"What is the fun in giving you spoilers yet? It will ruin the surprise, and trust me, my surprises are _big_."

"I bet there are. What is the point of having the surprise being squashed almost exactly where it stands?"

"Only in your wildest dreams, Mr. Holmes. I plan not to give up until everyone gets their punishments."

"And who made you the punisher?"

"I did… and my brother of course."

"You are going to take advice from a man who shot himself in the head ultimately because he was bored?"

"What would be the fun of it if I didn't?" Julianne responded immediately, and she cocked her head toward the other man. "Actually, I will let you in on a little insight," she leaned into his direction, looking as about to spill all her secrets. "I don't base my morals off a man who was a complete lunatic, and spent most of his time helping other criminals because he was bored. We share the same blood, and most likely the same psychosis, and I love it. But no, I don't just do this because I am bored. I do it because there is a world that deserves my wrath, my fury. But you do not need to know anymore at this time."

Mycroft Holmes changed the subject. "I find it interesting what you demand in these letters," he said dully, picking up one of them and skimming it over. "Something about you wanting me to step down from my governmental position?"

"Congratulations! You can read!" Julianne stated in an enthusiastic, mocking tone. She calmed down. "Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do."

"And why is that?"

"You already know the answer, _genius_, but I will tell you anyways. You are in my way, and I want you to move."

"It would be stupid of you to believe that I would really give up my position just because a teenager told me to."

"Yes, that is true, but you don't know the whole story."

"And what would that be…?"

"You know your friend Linus? He seems kinda cute. I love the fearful ones. They always come crawling to the leader," she completely changed the subject on purpose.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry, just thinking aloud…" a smirk grew upon her face. "If you do not step down from your 'minor' position in government, you will have to force me into violence. And when I say force…"

"It means you want a fight," Mycroft finished. He could already see where this was going.

"Naturally. It is in my blood you know; you can't blame me! And let me tell you, I have always loved a challenge."

"Then prepare for the biggest challenge in your life," the man stated in a very hard and cold voice. He was dead serious.

She clapped her hands in amusement, and laughed. "I was so hoping you would say that!"

"And I mean that in pure honesty."

"I know! And I so look forward to it," then her voice got extremely serious. "But if you don't step down soon though, there will be some severe consequences… fatal consequences. I am very passionate about my cause, and for anyone who gets in my way and risks the growth of it, I will destroy it."

"It's almost as if you want me to stop you."

"You know what Mycroft Holmes? You are too smart. Too bad you don't support my cause. I could use someone like you."

"Your plan is foolish and it will end badly," responded Mycroft, very bitter.

"But then again, I don't want someone in my organization that is smarter than me. I am smart than that!" she talked to herself.

"I would rather die than serve you," the man retorted bitterly, with utter disgust.

"Then I will hold you to that statement."

"You and I both know that if I step down, there will be nothing in the way to stop you from whatever it is you are planning."

"But think of the positive influences when you step down! The people will be happy, and I will lead them to certain happiness. Well, my happiness at least."

"You only crave a war and chaos, Julianne. And your followers are completely stupid for believing that you are leading a revolution."

Julianne put a mocking hand over her heart. "Right to the chest, Mr. Holmes. That hurt so so bad!"

"Oh grow up! You are insane, and I cannot even take you seriously," the politician snapped, his anger seething through his words.

"Am I getting to you already? How adorable! And we have only just started talking. Nothing has been acted upon yet. And let me tell you, your life is going to be a living hell."

"I highly doubt that," he said lamely.

"Good. When you underestimate me now, you will in for a complete shock. Your tiny little anti-social world will fall apart at your feet, and it could have been you who would be the man and step down. I should tear down your precious Diogenes Club just to fuck with you."

"There will be no profanity in my office young lady."

"That's about to change, my dearest little politician. You want to know why? When I am done, I will be sitting where you are, looking out that window there," she pointed to the window located on the left of them, "and I will proudly watch London burn down to the ground in mayhem. I will have my muddy boots all over your fancy desk, my closest friends will drink all your alcohol and have a party. And I will stab your desk with a knife covered in your blood, your lifeless body hanging in the closet I was just in. And yes, I do think about this often. And I plan to have my dreams fulfilled. I will give you a month to reach your decision. I will be waiting, Mr. Holmes." Julianne stood up and stretched. "It was a pleasure finally speaking to you. I shall see you around."

She turned on her heel, and walked out of the man's office with a smug smile on her face. She knew she got to him. It was always the descriptions that made her victims sick. And she looked forward to fulfilling them.

Mycroft Holmes was left sitting at his desk. He was speechless, not expecting how dark this teenage girl was going to get. He swallowed thickly, and refused to be intimidated by this young female. He knew he was strong, but with the mention of Linus Bentley in their conversation, he automatically knew she had a plan with his friend. Mycroft would just keep him safe; send a few of his people to monitor him.

He slumped in his chair wishing for a glass of scotch. But he decided against it. He wanted to be sober when he thought. And he was definitely going to be needed to think on this day.

"Oh Julianne," he thought aloud, "I will give you the biggest challenge of your life."


	7. To Walk Amongst the Men

The bitter cold sank into the flesh of many on a cold March day in a small Russian village near Moscow. Men were crowded together, trying to brace the cold with each other. The men had their coats wrapped around themselves tightly, forcing the warmth of their bodies that remained to stay with them. But there was one man that was besides the crowd. He embraced the nippiness; he enjoyed the numbing chill. This was his climate.

Sebastian Moran was here on a mission; to seek out other trainers who could join the Pythons, the uprising that will overthrow the British Government. The new members needed to be trained how to handle a weapon and to fight hand to hand, or whatever objects they could get their hands on. And there was definitely a lot more people that needed to be trained for their cause.

In the crowd that was beside Moran, he could tell that there were three assassins, two weaponry tradesmen, and five who could be potential teachers to train martial arts. He could tell all of this because this was his life; it was naturally for him to pick out those who were trained just like him. And that was a skill Julianne needed preciously at this moment.

The crowd stomped around, going to a certain destination that called for them. Moran had spread the word that there would be a meeting to better the lives of the men who came. So they all marched along, making their way to an abandoned warehouse located out of the city.

Everything was quiet and Moran had time to think to himself. He smiled when his mind came to Julianne. She was a very strong individual with a shocking motivation. It didn't surprise the hit man though; she shared the blood of his master, James Moriarty, a man who earned Moran's full respect.

Sebastian Moran thought back on the day he was first introduced to Moriarty's sister. In her eyes she seemed kind of lost until she knew the truth. Then the fury in her eyes glimmered for all to see, well, only to those who were looking. And Moran could undeniably see it. Without a doubt Moran knew that Moriarty were siblings, they were so much alike. And the responsibility of her training of weaponry, of defense, amongst other things, landed into Sebastian's hands. And he was proud of it.

The visions of her twirling about, fighting off dummies in a ring invaded his mind. He taught Julianne grace when fighting, the benefits of being light on your toes, and the importance of balance. Moran remember when she would cry out in pain when he defeated her in a practice battle, how she would fall on her ass and pick herself back up immediately, fearing the chance of failure. He taught her well, and Sebastian knew that this child would succeed in her mission.

Moran looked around his surroundings. He and the crowd passed by a rotten hotel that Julianne and him had occupied before, three years back. She was sick during that time and almost died right in the filthy place. The images of bloodied vomit and her tremors and the tears and the suffering were pushed away from his mind. It always pained the man to see Julianne so weak. But that was in the past; she had gotten strong.

The meeting place was in the distance; many could see it from where they stood. They trudged along, and eventually the doors were open and the crowd seeped into the building, seeking warmth. Moran took his position in front of the room and immediately spoke.

"So you all know why you are here," he spoke in fluent Russian, his thick accent revealed. "We need people to train my organization, and there will be great benefits for those who decide to come with me today. It is not required for you to know English, only that you can train others with what you have. We are looking for men with capabilities of handling several kinds of weaponry, masters in hand to hand, knife throwers and professional handlers, among other things. You are here today because you can do this, and want to get out of this country. Am I wrong?"

None of the men responded, and Moran continued.

"You will be smuggled out of the country. All of the details have been arranged and planned. You are going to teach many who are very inexperience, and since there are several, you will only teach them enough to get by. The leader of the Pythons is Julianne Walker. You may have heard of her before during recent events. She is brutal, and she only looks for loyalty. If you come today, you choose to serve her out of any circumstance. That is all I have to say, you men know the rest. We meet at the river in one day, at 21:00 exactly. A boat will come from there, and the rest is planned." He finished his speech and stepped down. The men parted away from him, and he left the abandon building.

Julianne jumped off the stage when the warehouse became quite. She knew that everyone had left, or so she though. She sighed deeply when she knew she was wrong, and she spoke to no one in particular.

"I thought I recognized your voice when you said "I am!"."

A tall, thick man crept out of the shadows, and into the dim light. "Only doing my duty to serve you."

"Such a loyal dog you are, Thomas. I'm happy to have you as my left hand man," Julianne replied, looking at him intently.

"As it is an honor to serve you, m'lady."

"You do know I have a name right?"

"I do, and I also know you like your titles when you can get your hands on them," Thomas spoke softly, and slightly bowed his head.

"Quite so. Moran has left for Russia, and will be back in a week. I assume you are filled in on what to do in his absence."

"Yes, m'lady. To transfer the weapons shipment to a certain location, and secure it until it is time."

"Time for what?" the young girl asked, already knowing the answer and smiling.

"The revolt. The rebellion against the British Government."

"And what type of revolt will it be, Thomas?"

"A successful one, m'lady?"

"Naturally, since I am of course the leader. Good boy!" Julianne remarked, condescending the older man. "Now leave my sight, you have work to do."

Thomas bowed, and muttered "Thanks, m'lady."

She shook her head._ Pity he will be dead too when this is all over. We all are._


	8. The Hell Awaits

"Eww! Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted as John and he walked into the Detective Inspector's office at Scotland Yard.

"What is it now, Sherlock?" Lestrade responded in a not so friendly welcoming tone.

"What the hell is on your face?"

"What do you mean?" the detective was very confused.

"Do you mean the beard, Sherlock?" John piped in.

"Yes, I mean the bloody facial hair John. Lestrade, shave it at once," the sleuth commanded.

"And why in the hell would I do that?"

"Because it looks horrible on you!"

"How about this: You call me by my first name now, and I will."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and got very quiet. John assumed that he was hastily searching through his "mind palace", and was failing miserably.

"I guess he must have 'deleted' that information. So, Lestrade, why have you called? A new case perhaps?" John questioned.

"No, actually I called for something different. A friend of mine was a certain party a week ago, and he says that you two were there. At Magnussen's Manor? Sherlock, do you have anything to comment on?"  
It took him a second to snap back into the conversation. "No, I don't need to comment on that because John and I were never there," he sniffed, and looked out the window.

"Is that so? Well he said you two looked fancy with you tuxedos and serving the guests. Also said that it was Doctor John Watson that handed him a glass of champagne. Amazing then, you two must have lookalikes in this lovely city of London," Lestrade said, knowing that Sherlock Holmes was lying to him. John remained silent, and the detective inspector's eyes wandered towards him. The doctor shrugged in response.

"Whatever you guys have been working on, I would like to be informed. This wasn't I case I gave to you, so somebody has asked for your help privately without seeking the help from the authorities."

"Well that's because you are stupid, Lestrade," curtly replied Sherlock.

"Sherlock…" John sighed.

"Well it's true!"

"Stop behaving like a child."

"John, I am not!"

"That's enough! Both of you! I didn't call you two in here to bicker. So, _Sherlock_, why where you at Charles Magnussen's party?" Lestrade stressed.

The consulting detective looked at the man behind the desk keenly and responded. "Charles Magnussen is the biggest and most notorious blackmailer that I have ever known, and he enjoys victimizing several people daily. He lives the luxurious life that he does because of these injustices, and he needs to be stopped. And since Scotland yard is too lazy and stupid to do so, I shall take care of it."

"Oh? Are you now?" Lestrade sassed. "Because the last time I checked, I have the power to arrest people."

"Oh whatever… GREG!"

"Doesn't count now. It was too late of an answer."

"Bull-"

"Sherlock," John warned. He looked at Lestrade. "He won't even tell me exactly what the case is about. Something about a woman…?"

"Yes, about a woman and her love letters to a married man. That is all you need to know at this time. I will let you both in on it more once I have the letter in my hands and burned."

"You know that he is fully capable of making copies."

"I know that, Lestrade. I am not oblivious. But Magnussen is not that type of man. He will keep the item close to himself and not risk copying it due to the advances in technology, and it would be easy for me to trace the location of this document. He is smart and careful, that is what makes him so incognito with his actions. He is hard to catch, even for me. He is the most scumful creature in London," Sherlock sneered.

"There is another reason I called you two in here, and the news is not good. It is about this Julianne Walker. There has been some trouble stirring."

John and Sherlock went silence, and the room was in a tense quite. "I know this is not what you want to hear," Lestrade continued, "but something is up. Rumors have gone around that she is gaining power, that she is gaining support of many people, mostly the homeless. It's not good. I advise you two to look into it for me. I am sure that won't be a problem?" he asked quietly.

"No no, of course not," Sherlock's voice was rough. He cleared his voice. "We will look into it."

The atmosphere of Gregory Lestrade's office got very gloomy. Sherlock turned on his heel to leave, when Lestrade spoke again. "I know this is especially hard on you Sherlock, and I do apologize. But we will bring her down. She just has been out of our grasp for so long…"

"That's because Scotland Yard hasn't been trying hard enough," and with that, Sherlock stalked out of the office.

He ran into Anderson, a man who Sherlock had disliked for many years on end. But even he had nothing rude to say; his mind was only on one person, Julianne.

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade sat in his office alone, five minutes ago the two men that could save him walked out. He pulled out the letter again, reading it over and over, his heart sinking every time he read it.

_To my dearest Lestrade,_

_It was finally time for me to contact you. Oh yes, this fate was inevitable. You are one of the three people who stand in my way of success, but you are an easy one to remove, aren't you? I sometimes feel so bad for you; your wife doesn't love you, your children have drifted from you. How sad and quite pathetic, but in the end, this was your fault and you know it. I have a request for you. I ask you to step down from your position as Detective Inspector. You are a smart man, and I am a smart woman. So let's be adult like and not get anyone killed in this process. Oh yes, I should mention that Scotland Yard is filled with my people. Wherever you look, seeing everyone's faces, you should think to yourself how loyal they are to this corrupt nation of ours. How alone are you really Gregory? Shall I reveal this question to you, or do you want to leave undamaged? I assure you that you can't even trust your friends, even the ones that hold their accommodations at 221B Baker Street. I dare you to drive them into my path, to see if they can stop me. As I have told others, I do love a challenge. I supply you an ultimatum: You have exactly one month to step down from your position, or there will be some outcomes that you will not like. I have my sources, and you have yours. But I have an advantage. I have so many people loyal to me and I am not afraid to lose anything. Tell me, what is yours? Certainly not your family; that makes you weak. You have something to live for; well you have a lot to live for actually. So why not step down, give up your office, and save your life… and your family's as well? It is not your duty to struggle through the upcoming events in store. Hopefully I won't have to speak to you again, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade._

_Best regards,_

_Julianne Walker_

_P.S. I don't think I need to explain to you the consequences of letting anyone know about this. I think you have a reputation to maintain…_

"I need a drink," the man said as he set down the menacing letter. "And just a child," he chuckled, but he found nothing humorous about it. He knew that he, as well as his friends, would be facing something huge, something they have never faced before. Something so menacing that he feared only a few would survive. But he shook his head. He was overthinking the situation. The government would take care of this… As Mycroft would feel that Scotland Yard would support the government.


	9. A Message Clearly Sent

Sherlock walked into his and John's flat calmly, trying to hide how he felt. It felt foreign to him to care so much. After the jump off of Saint Bart's Hospital, everything had changed; his feelings, how he cared. Before, he would repress the way he felt, hide it from himself even. But that came to bite him in the butt, even now.

He took a deep breath as his friend trailed behind him. Sherlock walked into the kitchen, searching for something to eat. That was another thing after the "Fall", as John and him called it; he got extremely hungry at the most random times.

"You're upset," said John sympathetically, looking at his friend in sadness.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're irritated, tired, and starving. You are under much stress right now."

"Who made you the observant one?" Sherlock lightly joked.

"Definitely not you," the doctor teased back. "So do you want to talk about it?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Of course," and John said nothing more.

It was in the middle of the night in an April day, and a man, an old tall man, walked in the street by himself, looking for a way to free his mind from the chaos that was occurring, and what will occur. Linus Bentley knew better than to doubt his old friend Mycroft Holmes, but he also knew that he was wrong this time. Julianne Walker knew exactly what she was doing, and was slowly driving each and every one of them mad. He paused on the bridge, and went to the edge. He could hear the rushing of water, the soft scent of it, and could feel the chill of it sink into his jacket. Linus closed his eyes, and let the sounds of the river lull him.

"Hello there, Mr. Bentley. Should I say good morning? It is one in the morning."

The man turned around with haste, and his heart pounded in his chest, almost bursting out on the spot. "Julianne," a gasp escaped Linus's lips.

The teenager took a breath. "Tell me, Mr. Bentley, how is Mycroft's Holmes's decision to step out of office coming along?" she asked with a light menacing tone.

He was speechless. Linus didn't think Julianne Walker would seek out for him personally. What a fool he had been. He stood there, his jaw moving up and down, but no words coming out of his mouth.

"Speechless, eh? I guess I have that effect on men," she joked. "But serious, he has what," she looked at her watch pointedly, "two and a half more weeks to decide. Pray forgive me, but I am somewhat of an impatient woman these days."

"Holmes has been thinking of what to do, yes."

"And…? Let me guess, he is not going to."

"That- That is correct, Julianne."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I do not like it when government officials call me by my first name. How informal of you!" Julianne stated condescending.

"Y-yes Ms. Walker," the older man stammered.

"That's better. You know, I have been thinking about something that could push our Mr. Mycroft into the right direction of choice," she leaned into Linus. "Did you want to know what that is, my dearest Bentley?"

He swallowed thickly. "And- and what is that, Ms. Walker?"

The teenager's smile was wickedly mischievous, and it was the last thing Linus Bentley saw before everything went black.

It was a gloomy Thursday morning when Mycroft Holmes sat in his vehicle, on his way to work. As always, the car stopped two blocks away from his office, and he would walk the rest of the way to the building where his work resided. As always, he had his umbrella at hand, and he thanked the stars that it was raining; it was his favorite weather.

He stepped out and the pitter patter of the rain greeted him. Everything was calm, but Mycroft felt an uneasy tense in the air. As always, he knew something was up, the faces around him weren't the same; the normal feeling of the day vanished immediately. His step got quicker, his breath slightly heavier, but his calm remained. Mycroft hastily walked to the government building in which he worked. And what he saw made his blood go cold.

There were a mass of people crowded at the main doors, many looking inside in horror, as there was a ginormous window that displayed the inside of the building. Murmurs were like waves, shifting from loud and soft repeatedly. Mostly they shook their heads and just stared at the display in front of them.

Mycroft squeezed his way through the mass, and was disgusted by the amount of so many people. Mr. Holmes was the type that liked his peace and quiet. But he regretted the moment when he looked up, and suddenly his mouth went dry. There, his eyes landed on Linus Bentley, his body naked and hanging in a haunting disfigurement, his hands tied behind his back and his chest puffed out. A noose was tightly wrapped around his neck, and a message protruded from his clean cuts on his chest. His mouth was open, looking as if he was about to release a demonic scream with his tongue out, looking like a poor fool. His eyelids were removed, and the black blood was stained on his cheeks. Mycroft was surrounded by the consistent "My God!" and "This is horrible!" and "Who would do such a thing?".

In an instant, Mycroft knew who did this, why, and his was furious. The government official's eyes lingered on his friends mutilated body for a moment and he swallowed thickly. Mr. Holmes feverishly went into the building, walked under his friend who was ten feet above him, and sped to his office while pulling out his mobile, dialed a number hurriedly, and waited for the other to pick up.

"Yes, what?" Sherlock snapped when he answered his phone, knowing it was Mycroft.

"Sherlock…" his brother was at a loss of words. Something was terribly wrong, and Sherlock stopped everything.

"Who was it? Who did she kill?" the consulting detective asked curtly.

"A friend of mine," he sighed, "Linus Bentley. You've meet him before."

"Yes, the name is familiar. Where?"

"At my workplace."

"And how did she set the body?"

"On display in the main lobby. She hung him with rope, naked,-"

"In the front window with a message on the body."

"Yes," Mycroft responded slowly.

"What did the message say?"

"It said, exactly, 'Decide Mycroft Holmes'."

"There is something that you have not informed me on in the past," Sherlock said lamely.

"Correct," the other brother responded hesitantly.

"I will be right over with John. Then you can explain to me exactly the relationship you share with the beloved Julianne Walker…"


	10. A Face Revealed

"Good afternoon Mycroft."

"Hello Sherlock."

"So tell me, Mycroft, what has Julianne come to you for?" the detective got straight to the point.

"Obviously, Sherlock, she wants me to step down from my position," the brother answered back, suppressing his anger of the current events.

"So you know what her plan is?"

"Not entirely. She craves a war, and I think she wants to start a civil war between our nation, overthrow the government, and create chaos. She is blood related to Moriarty, and that is of a nasty background. I imagine that she is bored."

"And her boredom has led to some bad consequences," Sherlock added, looking up at the body that hovered in the air. "He wasn't strangled to death. Probably injected with some type of poison." He looked at his older brother. "She is targeting you not only for intimidate you out of office. She wants something more. Maybe the gratitude and honor that she beat such a man as yourself?"

"Sherlock, I underestimated her, and that has led to Linus Bentley's death. Julianne Walker will not last long now. She has my full attention," Mycroft replied scornfully.

"Then you are giving her exactly what she wants. Julianne craves an audience from certain people, not just her rumored following."

"We both know that is not just a rumor."

Sherlock glanced at the other man, and a sickly tingle came through his body. Yes, of course Sherlock knew that it was not just a rumor. It was something more. And that something more was a very dangerous one. He felt as if he was in a boat just before a deadly hurricane. All he could do now was brace for it. But his mind wouldn't let him. His intelligence came through; guiding him somewhat falsely into thinking that he could beat this problem easily.

"How do we plan to approach this matter?" Mycroft finally asked.

"As always. Show up to her front door and knock, then encourage her to stop this ridiculous cause of hers."

"It won't be that easy for any man."

"But you and I both know that I am not just a man," Sherlock said coolly.

His brother only just shook his head sadly. Sherlock continued.

"I have my ways of persuading people. Do not underestimate someone you know because of your mistakes with Julianne. I shall handle this once and for all. You can just go back to your office, sit down and rule the country with a fork in one hand, and a slice of cake in another."

"Not now Sherlock. Really, not now…"

The consulting detective bowed his head, and Lestrade looked at them from across the room. This day would be a very long day.

"You know, out of all people, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, Mr. Holmes," a soft voice said in a little restaurant.

"And I wasn't expecting you to act so soon with my brother either. That makes us even, Julianne."

"Not quite, but have a seat since you are here."

Julianne Walker stared at London's most famous sleuth as he sat down with stiffness. She took a sip of her wine.

"A bit young to be drinking? Last time I checked, you are only seventeen."

"And last time I checked, you were supposed to be dead. So I guess that makes us even, _Sherlock_," she purred, mocking him back.

Sherlock placed his hands on the table, one of them wiping away the invisible crumbs to keep his hands busy. "So tell me, Ms. Walker, how have you been?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed in shock. "Well how lovely of you to ask. I have been marvelous actually, but I know you don't care about that. So tell me Mr. Holmes, why are you in my presence."

"In all honest, I am here to ask you to stop. I am sick of your games, as well as the rest of us."

"And who is 'us'? Your friends? Because apparently, I am well liked around the nation! So your little tight clique has nothing to what_ I_ have," she laughed bitterly.

"And what is that?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

The teenager sighed deeply and shook her head. "How stupid do you think I am? Because I think you consider me to be one of the most nonintellectual beings that have even come across your presence."

"Oh no, of course not. I find you interesting."

"Well damn," she responded lamely. "I was hoping you would say that. So are you going to lecture me on why I shouldn't do this?"

"I am not here for that either. Frankly, I don't give a damn what you do Julianne," she raised an eyebrow at this. "But if you do decide to go with your plan, let me tell you this: If you overthrow the government, start a war, and have your 'minions' have a bloodbath with the innocent citizens with the country, I will stop you without hesitation, and I will end your life." He cocked his head, waiting for a response.

"Remember the day I killed Harold, Sherlock?" she asked calmly, like this was a normal thing for her. "I told you not to get in my way, as there would be some major issues between us if that occurred. Are you declaring yourself as my greatest enemy at this time, saying that you won't back down? Because if so, you will not like the outcome. And you will end up like your dear poor friend; dead, bleeding out in an abandon warehouse with no one but the devil himself," she sneered dangerously. "Stop me and you die, but before then, I will make your life and the people around you a living hell."

"Then I accept the consequences, although I highly doubt someone like you could do that," he stared her down, completely serious, meaning every single word.

She buried her anger, but the sleuth could still see it in her eyes. She cleared her throat. "Very well. Sherlock Holmes, my brother's worst enemy and play thing. I will avenge his death upon you, and release all of it on you. Sherlock Holmes, I declare you as my mortal nemesis." She held out her hand so he could shake on it.

At times like these, Sherlock would only chuckle and stand up, brushing the other off. But looking deeply into her eyes, he could see nothing but the eyes of a demon. There was no love, only hate and pure business. He held out his hand also, and firmly they both took the other's hand. And they shook upon it, and it was done.

Julianne dropped her hand first. "Now get out of my sight, Mr. Holmes, before I break every bone in your body and rip out your eyes!" she said cheerfully, her mood dramatically switching.

He was almost dumbfounded at this transformation in a few seconds, but Sherlock never showed it. He stood up, muttered a good day, and left.

Meeting Julianne for the first time alone was something very educational. And what Sherlock learned was something he didn't like.

Julianne pulled out her phone as soon as Sherlock left the restaurant. She looked through her contacts until she found what she was looking for. She dialed the number, and patiently waited.

"Ah yes, hello Charles. It has been a while. Yes. Actually I do have a case for you. A very interesting one. Mhmm. It has to deal with Sherlock Holmes," she paused a smiled. "Oh I knew you couldn't resist my dearest Charles. Here, meet me by Livingston Gardens, in a cab. Yup. Mhmm. Yes, okay Charles. I shall see you tomorrow at noon."

As she hung up the call she almost laughed out loud. Sherlock Holmes had no idea what he was getting himself into, and it was so adorable.


	11. A Sharp Crack in the Air

The four met in Lestrade's office the morning after the death of Linus Bentley. Gregory sat in his chair while John, Sherlock, and Mycroft stood in different corners of the small room.

"So here is the update. Molly Hooper did an autopsy quickly under my request, and here are the results: Bentley was injected with about eight milliliters of liquid chlorine straight to his jugular vein, and since it was such a low concentration, he died slowly and painfully. I apologize for this, Mycroft, but it was cruel what she did."

Lestrade looked around the room, and he regrettably continued. "We can't charge her for murder since there is no evidence. Julianne Walker has played out her cards well."

"What has she approached you about, Lestrade?" Sherlock asked quietly, staring at the books on the officer's shelf.

"I- I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. She has threatened you, just like she has with Mycroft. Did she ask you to step down as well?"

Gregory did not answer that question, and the consulting detective took that as a yes. "I understand it now," he finally said. "Julianne has approached you, brother, obviously to weaken the government. With Lestrade out of this department, there would be nothing to stop her from taking over it. Lestrade," Sherlock's eyes snapped to his friend, "if you resign, this department is hers. I bet she has already told you that she has moles here, and I do not doubt her for one moment. If you step down, Mycroft will have a weakening support to stop this maniac."

"Yes I know Sherlock, but-" the inspector stopped himself.

"But she has threatened you with the things you care about most. Let us take care of that. We will get your family out of London. But for Gods sakes you cannot step down!"

"Sherlock, why are you all the sudden worried about Greg stepping down? We all know he won't," John finally said.

Mycroft still remained silent, observing and thinking, until he added "Because he has already thought about it."

There was only silence, until Gregory broke it. "What are we going to do about this problem?"

"Well I had a fine chat with her yesterday, and she declared me as her, and I quote, 'Mortal Nemesis', so Mycroft is out of the way for now. Her attention is focused on me now."

"Sherlock! How could you do that?!" John shouted. "You did it again! You put yourself into danger, and this is extremely bad! This girl is insane!"

"And she is exactly what she is, a girl and that is all."

"Why do you all keep underestimating her?!" John tried to keep his voice down but failed. "She is an insane lunatic, and here you guys are thinking you can beat her so easily! It's not! I've heard how she blew the brains out of Harold without regret, and now she killed a man to deliver a message to Mycroft! She. Is. Dangerous. And she just might defeat this country if you guys don't get your act together and face the reality of the situation! I may just be an averaged minded bloke, but I can clearly see that only intelligence will not stop the brutality and the growth of her cult, following, whatever you want to call it!" John ended his tirade, his breath heavy and his face flushed. "So get your shit together and let's stop this."

Sherlock looked at his flat mate in somewhat of a shock, and Lestrade joined him in the speechlessness. Mycroft only smirked slightly. "John has a point you know," Mycroft said softly. They all paused. They could all hear shouting in the distance, and group of angry people protesting something. Gregory immediately stood up and looked out the window. It was unclear at this view of what was going on, and all four headed out of the building.

"What the hell…?" Lestrade asked distantly when they left the building and into the street.

Many people were yelling in fury, and the four squeezed through to see what was starting the mayhem.

"My people, listen to me now!" a familiar voice rang through the air. Everyone became silent. "We are here today to show the rest of the world that we are not afraid of the things that repress us, the things that have the most negative impact in our short lived lives! May we declare to the world that we have had enough! We want our freedoms! With these corrupted government officials, we cannot achieve this!"

Many in the crowd were there, dedicating their lives to this girl in front of them. She gave her passionate words, and acted like she meant every one of them.

"So to my citizen of London, of England, of the United Kingdom, of Europe, of the world! I here stomp my feet down to this very ground and declare a rebellion to overthrow the British Government, and let us, the people, rule! I shall guide us to the light! My following, the Pythons, will be the role models to the rest of this beautiful country of ours! Let us rise to our full potential, let us-"

There was a loud crack of a gunshot that filled the air. Panic ensued, and everyone darted out of the way from the shooter. Julianne's eyes flashed to the noise, and she saw a tall man in a black coat holding a gun, a short man in a green parka, another tall man with an umbrella, and a detective inspector. She huffed out an agitated breath; Sherlock Holmes tried to stop her plans. But she smiled smugly. The news would get ahold of what had just happened, and she would instantly gain more followers.

"Give it up, Mr. Holmes!" she shouted behind her as she ran away from them, blending into the crowd, laughing.

"Sherlock! You cannot just do that in public! Was that my gun?" Gregory shouted through all the noise.

The man only shrugged. "Something needed to be done, and since you can't arrest her for it."

"She gave you quite the look, dear brother. I warn you to tread more carefully," Mycroft said smoothly, like he always did in situations like these. Not that this was a common occurrence.

"Mycroft, don't tell me what to do. I am a grown man. I can handle my own problems," Sherlock sneered in response.

"Boys, boys," John interrupted. "Remember we have to remained focused on our main goal, not sibling rivalry…"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, shaking his head while Mycroft smiled and nodded.

"Right, so the first thing for us to do is to build evidence against her, and squash her with it."

"Or, Lestrade, we can just find a weakness in the organization and expose it. Maybe take out the key players in this organization."

"The Pythons. It will be hard to take down," Lestrade said quietly. Everyone around them had run away, and silence remained.

"Only for average minded folks," Sherlock said confidently, smiling smugly.


	12. Reaching the Brink, Falling off an Edge

"Seb, finally! You are late!"

"Sorry, Moriarty, but I've brought the men."

"Oh good, and what have I told you about calling me that?" Julianne asked politely and gave Moran a tight hug. "So these are the men, eh?"

She looked behind her friend, and saw twenty older men in dirty jackets, all of them old and had rough faces.

"Gentlemen, welcome to England," she spoke in fluent Russian. It felt somewhat foreign to her, but just like riding a bike, she snapped into the old habit quickly. "You will each be given a specific number of people to train. Most of them are from my organization, The Pythons, but there will be some that have never held a weapon. You will all be given a place to stay, hot food three times a day, and will be treated to many freedoms. I thank you all for joining my organization, as it will be the best choice you have ever made. I am sure that my ally, Moran, has filled you in on the details. No one else besides the people in this very room knows our true plans. And since you men don't speak English, or very little, I am sure that it will not be a problem. You will train my people well, and if any of you betray me from this point on, there will be some outcomes that nobody will like. Do I make myself clear?" Julianne's voice rang in the warehouse.

Nobody responded, and she took that as a yes. "Perfect. We shall start our training tomorrow. Then we can get to our plans."

She spoke to Sebastian in English. "In two weeks, we will be ready. Then the hell begins."

"Hello, Charles," Ms. Walker said quietly, a smile growing upon her red lips.

"Julianne Walker, how it has been a while," a smooth voice rung out of the cabbie door. She stepped inside invitingly, and looked to the cabbie. She told him a location, and he drove off.

They remained silent, Julianne with a case file in her hands, and Charles looking at it, wondering what this teenager had to offer her. When the cabbie stopped, they arrived at a bench with a river rushing behind them. Julianne stepped out first, looking expectantly at Magnussen. He followed her out, and gave the cabbie his money hastily. She smiled and walked to the welcoming bench, and took her seat to the left.

"So, Ms. Walker, I've been looking forward to this meeting. I was most disappointed when it got delayed," the blackmailer retorted.

"We both get busy, you know how it is. The blackmailer and the terrorist meet again. This meeting has been long awaited; I've been looking for the perfect time to give this to you," she tapped her fingers on the file on her lap.

"Ah, so this must be good."

"I only do the very best."

"And, may I ask why now? Of all times to blackmail the infamous Sherlock Holmes and you pick now?"

"He's gotten in my way during several accounts, and I have warned him over and over again on what happens when he does."

"Alright, so please, proceed."

As Magnussen said this, Julianne pulled out a single picture in the file. "Do you know who this woman is?"

"I fear that I am unaware."

He stared at the picture closely, and he saw a beautiful tall woman. She was very skinny, her figure very slender, and her makeup made her face appear more gorgeous. Her black hair was twisted in an expertly way, and she wore expensive clothes. "Who is this woman?" he asked, trying to hide his curiosity but failing.

"Her name is Irene Adler. Heard of her now? To Sherlock Holmes, I do believe that she was referred to as 'The Woman'. She was supposedly beheaded by a terrorist cell, but I can prove that she is not."

"And why would this concern me?"

"Because if certain people found out she was alive, they would pay millions to have her location. And I think Sherlock has a thing for her, since he did save her after all. Maybe a ting of sentiment. It will play to our advantage," she laughed.

"So, you want me to blackmail Sherlock out of stopping you?"

"That would be grand, yes. And when he does, you can sell her information for all I care. This will be the biggest material of your life. Take it or leave it."

"There is a price to this, isn't there?"

"Well, there always is a price. I do like sponsors, especially when I know that several will back down when they know what I am doing."

"I play it smart and choose not to care," Magnussen replied with a smirk.

"And that is why I like you. Simple and to the point."

"When should I inform Sherlock that I have this information?"

"In two weeks' time. My plans start then."

"May I ask how you found this Adler woman?"

"It was when Sebastian Moran and I went to Russia during my 'death'. Oh it was such a grand time. Never expected to see her from across the street. And in that same day, we saw none other than Sherlock Holmes. He was hunting for Moran of course, trying to squash Moriarty's 'minions' before he came back to life. That was back in 2012, and as much as Mr. Holmes tried to catch his prey, he was very unsuccessful," she said in a matter-of-factly tone.

"I am glad that he was. And I am very pleased that you have acquired this information. This will be most helpful!"

"And I already know you won't screw me over. I don't need to remind you of the army that I have, and not to mention my wrath you will be under if you don't cooperate," Julianne stated coolly.

"Of course. There is no need to lecture me. I do know my place after all," Magnussen responded with hesitation. He hated being talked down to, but when it came to Julianne and priceless information, he would say whatever to get his hands on that file.

"I am glad, but your hesitation is obvious. I know you do not like your position where it is now, but you will have to work with what you got. Know your place, blackmailer," Julianne almost sneered. "And have a good day!" she said cheerfully. With that, she stood up and placed the file where she sat.

"Afternoon," he muttered, watching her walk away.

Two weeks had passed with barely any news of Julianne Walker's whereabouts. There was tension in the flat of 221B Baker Street, Scotland Yard, and even in Mycroft's office. They all tried to brace themselves for what was about to come.

Gregory was the most scared out of the four. He knew that he was in a position that he couldn't leave, but his mind would wander and he would worry about what would happen if he didn't leave. His family could be hurt, or even worse, killed. He would watch his friends in the battlefield, dying and fighting. And he would be in Scotland Yard, defending his position so he could try to bring her down. And what if his department fails? What if the law fails? He would suffer for nothing.

Mycroft was dead set on his decision. He would never resign from office. He smiled when he thought that a young girl would intimidate him out of office. Yes, Linus Bentley was a good friend, but there was only a few people that could slightly alter his decision. In fact, there was only two people that could. Sherlock Holmes and his assistant Anthea. Not even Holmes thought of her real name anymore, only her code name. That was the life of working in government so deeply.

John Watson was very worried himself, but he knew that he stood by good men. He knew that Sherlock and Mycroft would help end this, and the law was on Gregory Lestrade's side. He tried to keep in touch with his beloved Mary, but thought no more about her than that she was probably busy. He did miss her though, and the extra weight of a wedding ring in his pocket at all times reminded him of Mary consistently.

Sherlock stopped eating, stopped talking, and only kept his thoughts to himself. There was nothing more he could do than to think about the endless possibilities of what could happen. Hell, he even thought that none of what Julianne Walker hinted would actually happen. Well, at least that is what he had hoped for.

As Sherlock and John sat quietly in their flat's living room, a slight knock on the door brought both of their heads up.

"Come in," Sherlock said blankly, not even paying attention.

The door creaked open. "Don't mind if I do," a man said strongly.

Bother of them looked up immediately, recognizing the voice almost instantaneously.

"Magnussen!" John gasped.


	13. The Damsel in Distress, Maybe

"Magnussen," Sherlock stated lamely, not in the least amused. "What may I help you with?"

"May I come in, or will I get attacked if I do so?" Charles asked very humorously.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Charles," Sherlock said, sounding very bored and uninterested.

"John, I think it is best that you leave for this meeting," the blackmailer looked pointedly to the doctor.

John looked at his companion, looking for what he should do in this situation. Sherlock only nodded his head, and Doctor Watson grabbed his coat and left immediately. Magnussen took John's seat, and Sherlock Holmes sat across from him.

"So, how can I help London's filthiest blackmailer today? "

Charles chuckled. "Actually, you can help me out a lot. I have been sent here today to deliver a message to you. Rumor has it that you are getting in the way of some pretty determined people, and they're not happy."

"You support Julianne Walker and her Python's case then? Why in the world would you support something like that?" Sherlock asked puzzled.

"Just for the mere benefits of fucking with you, Mr. Holmes," Magnussen replied in a dark tone.

"You think you have information that can be held against me? I would love to see what you have. I doubt you have something that I'm concerned about."

"Oh, so Irene Adler wouldn't be one of them?" he asked innocently, knowing it would push the other man's buttons. "Oh well, I guess I will just dispose this information. And when I mean dispose…"

"Irene Adler?" the consulting detective asked with shock. "What do you know about her? She's been dead for year!"

"Don't play stupid with me, Mr. Holmes. We both know that she is alive. I even know where she is at at this exact moment."

"Why should I care about all of this anyways?"

"I guess I should commence on giving you the message," he cleared his throat dramatically. "Julianne wants to tell you, 'Mr. Holmes, if you do not back down from your plans to stop me, I shall allow Magnussen to sell all of Irene's information. It would pay well, wouldn't it? Also, if you convince Mycroft and Gregory Lestrade to step down from their positions, this information will be burned at once.' That was her exact message. Do you have a response?"

"Since when did Charles Magnussen, a big bad blackmailer bully, start playing owl and deliver messages. The role doesn't fit you at all!" he criticized back.

The criminal scowled in response. "Do you have a message for her?"

"Not at this time, no," Sherlock said lightly. "Except to step out of the shadows and face me like an adult. She's going to have to start learning people skills if she wants to succeed."

"As much as I wouldn't love to say that to her personally, I have a feeling you will be getting that chance. Oh, and she said one other thing, and I'm sure you will pass this on to your beloved Watson; He should call Mary, maybe go over to her place. It has been a while since they last talked, hasn't it?"

"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary," Julianne paced and repeated her name quickly, thinking.

"Yes, my dear?" Morstan questioned, slightly annoyed.

"You know, I've had you for four days and not even Sherlock has noticed? Kinda sad, don't cha think?"

"I don't really mind that much. They've both been busy the past couple of weeks," she said nonchalantly.

Mary Morstan sat on a comfortable chair, not tied up, but having a civil conversation with the teenager that planned chaos. Julianne had informed her that there were at least ten assassins in the building at all times, five martial artists, and at least twenty of her gang members. There was no way that Mary could escape so easily.

"Ah yes. Well I guess that is my fault. I even had to send a blackmailer for Gods sakes to tip them off. How ridiculous! I feel like I am dealing with idiots!" Julianne threw her hands into the air, frustrated. "This country deserves to be overthrown," she muttered. "IDIOTS!"

Mary sighed. "So what did you want with me anyways? I am a very curious person."

"Oh, Mary. You're just a part of one plan. One single little part of a complex plot, my deary. That is all you will know. And hey, I'm a sucker for surprises."

"I bet you are. So, I think I am figuring this out. I am bait for Sherlock and John. You want them to come and find me, and when they do you're going to do something."

"Ahha. I was hoping you would go deeper with that, but that is basically the jist."

"How original of you…"

"Why thank you!" Julianne mocked back. "But no really, you're existence is very helpful to me. So I thank you for being you."

"Thank… you?"

"Whatever. I gotta go. You can stay in here. And I don't need to inform you that-"

"Yes, yes. I know perfectly well what would happen if I left this room."

"Good girl!" she talked Mary down. "Tottles!"

"Seb, are the preparations almost ready?" Julianne asked dangerously as she left the small room.

"Well of course. Our first attack will be located near Buckingham Palace."

"Good. That will get a few people's attention."

"Then Sherlock, Lestrade and his team-"

"Will follow us back here where John Watson can save the damsel in distress!" Julianne put the back of her hand near her forehead to dramatically impress.

"Such the charmer," Moran muttered and chuckled.

"Excuse me?" she snapped. "You had better watch your tone! I am on fire today."

"Yes, Moriarty."

"Walker. Jesus, Seb, I am not my brother. How many times do I have to tell you for it to go through your thick skull of yours."

"Apparently not enough."

She laughed, and walked on with her partner. "Uprising is here. I've waited for this moment for years. Years!"

"So have I, Julianne. So have I."


	14. The First Rebellion Comes With Much Bloo

Car alarms went off around the radius of the explosion near Buckingham Palace. Smoke rose with the flames, cars were tipped over, the cement was burnt and dead bodies with blood were everywhere. Screaming was off in the distance, and the scene was very eerie. A lone woman with a group of ten men only inhabited the area. She stood on top of an upright car, looking around.

"We have many dead. We sure created a scene. Lestrade and his men should be here soon. We will lead them to our location. Then we kill his unit. After that, the government is the only thing that stands in our way. Once we eliminate that, we have nothing to stop us, and we will be sailing smooth."

"Walker, they're on their way," Moran looked up at her, listening into his police radar. "They are five miles north."

"Then let's move out! They can follow us from here!" she shouted over the men.

At her orders, the men, including Moran and Thomas, moved to their vehicles quickly. "Make it look like a chase, boys! We want them to think that they're winning!"

Lestrade, John, Sally Donovan, and Sherlock occupied a police car that zoomed to the bombing sight near the palace. "Holy shit!" Lestrade swore under his breath. "I can't believe she did this! She is a full pledged terrorist now."

"And we can arrest her soon enough now. I am sure there is plenty of evidence now to throw her in prison for life," Sherlock said quietly, his heart racing.

"Boss, the SWAT team is on their way as well. They're right behind us," Donovan stated, her breath heavy.

As they arrived at the crime scene, three vans with gunmen in them drove right in front of their path.

"That must be them!" exclaimed John.

"Donovan, tell SWAT to follow us. We have the suspects that are armed and dangerous," the detective inspector ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Donovan busied herself with the walkie talkie, shouting orders into it.

As they chased the black vans at high speed, none of the gunmen shot at the police cars. With Donovan shouting orders and Lestrade concentrating on driving, Sherlock knew something was up.

"John," Sherlock nudged the doctor and spoke quietly. "I think Julianne is leading us to Mary. Something is going to happen. Be prepared," he warned, and John adjusted his gun in his jacket and nodded.

"We better bring her down right here and now," John mumbled angrily.

"We will do our best."

"Damnit! We are loosing them!" Lestrade shouted and banged his hand on the steering wheel.

"Well drive faster!" Sherlock shouted.

"I'm trying!" Gregory exclaimed back. "Donovan, tell SWAT that they are heading out of the city."

The chase continued for over ten minutes, and finally Lestrade lost sight of them.

"Go straight ahead, Lestrade. I think I know where we are going. It was so obvious!"

"Where, Sherlock? Where do I need to drive to now?"

"To the warehouse where Harold died. That's where she is leading us. So step on it!"

The location soon came in view, and the three black vans were parked in view. "We will wait for backup, then we invade."

"But Mary might be in there, Lestrade!"

"And I said we wait for backup! You got it?" Lestrade shouted in the vehicle.

Conveniently enough, the SWAT arrived next to them in the next two minutes. Gregory stepped out and talked with the chief of the team. He returned to the car minutes later, telling them the plan.

"So this is what we're doing. We are all going to go in now, SWAT first then us. We will arrest Julianne and her men, find Ms. Morstan, and we call it a day. Clear?"

The three nodded, stepped out of the car, and put on Kevlar vests.

"Let's move move move!" shouted the chief, and they invaded the warehouse.

What they did expect in the warehouse was Julianne with a few other men. What they saw was absolutely overwhelming. It was fifty men against twenty, and the SWAT started to shoot at the men with guns.

Russian men came out of nowhere, smashing and beating some officers with their hands, disposing of their guns. Julianne shouted commands to her men in Russian and English, and she pulled out her knife. Anywhere she could, she sliced man after man, her target John Watson.

"Hello doctor," she whispered into his ear and held him in a position in which he could not get out of. She drew her long hunting knife to her tanned neck. "I've heard so much of you from your precious Mary. At least I had the heart not to kill her; or maybe that was just an inconvenience to me?" she questioned herself, not caring. "It's amazing that you're not the one that I want, but yet I have such easy access to you, and your heart. So tell me since you know him better," she nodded at Sherlock, who was busy doing some sort of martial arts on another Russian, "what is his heart? You? I know you're best friends, but…"

"How many times do I have to say that I am not gay?" John tried to struggled out of his position, but was unsuccessful.

"I never said that you were. Oh look! Now we have his attention."

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted from across the room. "Julianne, let him go!" he ran over to them.

"And why should I?" she pressed the blade closer to John's neck, and blood started to trickle. "It's not like you got out of my way or anythi-" she paused and stared at the scene that was happening behind the sleuth.

Sherlock slowly turned around as well, and all three of them watched the battle between Gregory Lestrade and Sebastian Moran. Moran, with a pipe in his hand was swinging at Lestrade, who had apparently lost his gun in the surprise attack that occurred in the warehouse. Sherlock shouted when Sebastian threw his hand back, and slammed the metal pipe into the detective inspector's head. The officer fell down cold, with his blood flying everywhere.

Sherlock looked quickly back at Julianne with a murderous hint in his eyes, and she laughed into John's hair. "How adorable when he's so angry," she whispered to the doctor yet again, her lips barely touching his ear.

As the consulting detective ran to his fallen friend, the knife only got deeper into Watson's neck. The teenager laughed and enjoyed the show as John watched in horror, fearing that Lestrade had suffered through a severe head trauma.

Then everything changed. Everything turned red in Sherlock's eyes. Julianne had crossed a line that she should not have. Sebastian faced his foe with a smile on his face. "Miss me, Sherly? You've hunted me throughout Europe without success, and now here we are."

"Yes, yes we are," Sherlock growled under his breath. He glanced at Julianne and they exchanged looks. She let go of the detective's friend immediately and ran over to Seb before it was too late. She watched in horror as Sherlock quickly pulled out his gun and fired it at Moran's head. He fell dead, his brains scattered behind him.

"SEB!" Julianne screamed on the top of her lungs, and everyone stopped. "NOO!"

"That- That was for Harold," Sherlock breathed as she ran over to her dead companion.

"How could you?" she cried weakly.

"You're done, Julianne. It is all over."

"NO IT'S NOT!" she shouted again, even louder. She stood up tall and grabbed the butt of her knife, stabbing the detective right in the leg. Blood immediately poured from Sherlock's leg, and he fell down with severe pain. His eyes watered, and he could hear Julianne shouting commands, telling the others to fall back, to leave the premises at once. His vision faded, and he passed out next to Gregory Lestrade.


	15. Waking up in Hospitals

"Thomas… Thomas… He's dead, Thomas," Julianne mumbled, numb to the bone. Her breath was weak, her body shaking. "He was like a brother to me. The last connection I had to my own family… and now he's dead. I have nothing left Thomas." Julianne fell to her knees and sulked. "He had everything planned, and he had to be so _stupid_," she spat out.

"Ms. Walker, I…" his voice trailed off. "We need to leave immediately. The police will be looking for you. We need to go under for a long while. We need to go into hiding."

"Thomas, I just want this to be over with…"

"You have to wait to be successful, Walker. All we can do now is wait."

"I've been waiting for years!" she screamed in fury. "How do you expect me to wait even longer now?!"

"Because if you want to be successful, to make your brother and Moran's death meaningful, you must wait."

"There is nobody else I can trust besides you, Thomas, and that's saying something," she whispered hoarsely. "You have been by my side for a short time now, and I have watched you closely. I trust you, now get me out of here safely!"

"Yes, ma'am," he picked her up and carried her to the car, disappearing from the world for several months.

"Sherlock? Sherlock," John's voice echoed as Sherlock bobbed his head awake. He slowly opened his eyes, and the fierce brightness of the room invading his eyesight.

"What the hell happened?" he mumbled, somewhat dazed. Automatically he could tell that it was the morphine that made him this way.

"Sherlock, it's alright now. You're in the hospital."

"Well of course I am in the hospital, John!" Sherlock snapped. "Not even the morgue smells this bad and feels so grimy. I'm in a gown, John. A hospital gown. Get me out of here," he ordered, his eyes still not fully open.

"No, you're going to stay here and heal."

"Heal? Heal from what?" Sherlock moved his legs to get up and soon regretted it. His right leg screamed out in pain and the detective hissed. "Oh, that," he retorted.

"She got away…" John mumbled under his breath.

"Lestrade, what happened to hi-"

"He's in a coma right now. He suffered a severe blow to the head, and his brain swelled. They don't know if he's going to make it," John replied quietly.

Nothing was said for many minutes, and John knew that his partner was thinking hard. "So she left then. No one can find her?"

"It's been three days…"

"John, I've been out for three days?" Sherlock asked stunned. "What the hell have they put me on?"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that she cannot be found, and she's still out there."

"For one thing, I know she will be quiet for a while. Julianne has been so dependent on Moran, and now her support has been eliminated."

Sherlock slowly sat himself up, looking at John. The doctor had a bandage around his neck, covering the wound he had received from Julianne Walker's hunting knife. Anger filled the detective's stomach as he thought of the previous events. The knife to John's neck, the determination in Julianne's eyes; she wouldn't have hesitated if she hadn't seen the fight that had happened behind Sherlock's back. John sensed his anger, and shifted his weight on his feel uncomfortably.

"But when she does come back, she will be more brutal than ever. She will be more destructive, not looking back on anything. She will be a dangerous weapon. We must be careful when she comes back, and we must make sure that Scotland Yard is stable by then. But as time goes on when she is in hiding, her cult will die down."

"Yeah," John only murmured back.

Sherlock sighed in annoyance. "John, how long do I have to be in here for?"

"About two weeks at least. That knife was stabbed straight into you for God sakes!"

"Great, so I'll break out in two days," Sherlock stated. "I shall be fine by then."

"No," John ordered. "You are staying in here for however long they deem fit. Once, you are safer in her anyways."

"Do you think Julianne will come after me now? After what I did to her? No, she needs to recover. She'll sink into a deep abyss, and it will take much for her to get out of it. But she won't attack yet. I know she won't."

"No you don't, Sherlock…"

"Do you doubt me, John?"

"Of course not. You are injured and you need to rest. That's all."

"How is Mary?" Sherlock asked immediately.

"We found her in a back room of the warehouse. She's fine. Julianne never touched her. Mary is a bit shaken, but aren't we all."

"No," Sherlock replied blandly.

"About killing Moran, I- uh."

"John, I don't want to talk about it. Things are best left unsaid."

"Just this one thing: Harold's death really got to you, didn't it? You never talked about it, and I've always worried."

"John," Sherlock warned under his breath, and they both went quiet.

Sherlock's doctor came into the room, and John soon left. The doctor, Doctor Wilkens, checked his vitals, his liquids, and gave him another dosage of morphine while Sherlock complained that it wasn't enough. Doctor Wilkens knew that he wasn't going to get along to well with the infamous sleuth, but he kept his mouth shut.

"The nurse will come in soon to change your bandage," Wilkens said flatly.

"Thanks," Sherlock mumbled under him breath.


	16. The Memories of a Young Girl Haunt

Her body was wrapped in a blanket and she was shriveled up in her bed. She sulked, thinking about her life after James Moriarty. She thought back upon her old teacher, Mr. Rogers, and how he joined the Pythons, organizing the drug trade to fit her reign perfectly. She needed Rogers at a time like this, but knowing that he wanted to run away like a coward, she almost gagged at the thought.

She laid down rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get some rest. Her face was stained dry from her tears, fearing that her kingdom had fallen. As she had her fits in her restless sleep, she recalled the memories of new life beginning.

_"Apparently you don't recognize me," said a tall man with shades, his hear as dark as midnight._

_ "Am I supposed to?" a sharp tongued teenager replied. "Never seen you in my life before!"_

_ "Such a pity, we could have had so much fun together when you were growing up," the man said softly._

_ "And who the hell do you think you are?" the young Julianne mouthed off._

_ "Me? You don't know me? Shameful really. My name is James Moriarty, and not meaning to be bold or anything, not that I am not, but I am your brother."_

_ "Yeah, you are a little bold. And why the hell would you say that?"_

_ "Tell me Julianne, when was the last time you truly felt that you belonged to a family? Felt love of any kind? Because it looks like to me that you are lacking in it."_

_ "Says the stranger who knows nothing of me!" she shouted._

_ "Cute. You remind me a bit like me anyways. I've been watching you for a while-"_

_ "Well that's not creepy or anything," she interrupted. _

_ Moriarty chuckled, and so did the man next to him. "Of course not. You have always been very important to me."_

_ "I've never been very important to anyone…" she mumbled off._

_ "Ah, but what about that English teacher of yours? Mr. Rogers is it? He seems very liking of you. He may just be the person we need for this operation," he said with a smile, knowing it will peak his younger sister's interest._

_ "Operation?" she asked. "What operation?"_

_ "You see, my young child-"_

_ "I'm not a child."_

_ "Of course. The thing is, there is something that might happen to me soon. I need someone that I can trust to run a business for me. Make it grow in a sense."_

_ "What are you hinting at?" the girl asked defensively._

_ "No need to pull that tone! Jeez, only spoken to you for a few minutes directly and you have the hot bloodedness of a Moriarty! I have, let's call it a very profitable business. And someone of my blood must run it. And since I have killed off everyone that I am related to, besides you of course, I need you to run it. Will that be a problem?"_

_ She raised her eyebrow at his matter-of-factly tone. "You- killed off everyone that it related to you?"_

_ "Oh! I forgot to mention that you were adopted. I have to say that was sorta my fault, but you know how it is. Let the psychopath free and watch what he does!"_

_ "Are you saying that I am adopted?"_

_ "I don't like repeating myself, but yes."_

_ "No wonder why I hate my parents," Julianne muttered._

_ "Ah yes, they are assholes. So tell me, are you in?"_

_ "I barely know you and you are freaking me out already."_

_ "Is that a yes?" She looked at him with hesitation. "I'll take that as a yes. You know, there are times where you have to take a risk. I need someone to manage the Pythons, and my friend Seb Moran," he pointed to the man next to him, "can teach you everything that you can dream of. And I know you hate your life now, you hate the people around you."_

_ She nodded slightly, and so did he. There was a tacit agreement, and Julianne was already attracted to this man in a sibling sort of way. His aura was very appealing to her, and she knew she could trust this man immediately._

_ "So, James is it? When do I get started? I'm sick of this place," she asked, trying to hide her enthusiasm._

_ "There is one thing you must do first. In a year there will be a very important man that will get shot by Moran. You must save him and befriend him. He will teach you the trades of running my sort of business and how to hide from the police. He was in a police academy but got kicked out for certain reasons. He will be very helpful to you."_

_ "Does this 'he' have a name?" she asked with attitude._

_ "Harold. Harold Wilston. In one year he will try to leave his job. And when he does, as I have said before, Moran will hunt him down and 'try' to kill him. All you have to do is call the ambulance, get his little butt into the hospital, and make him trust you. That won't be too hard for you, will it?"_

_ "Doesn't sound challenging enough," Julianne responded with a smirk._

_ "That's my girl! Make me proud."_

Julianne jolted awake in her sleep, her body sweaty and trembling. She suffered a type of seizure from the major overload of stress, and collapsed again into the mattress. Her memories invaded her mind.

_It was in October of 2011 when Julianne sniffed the brisk cold air in the night. _

_ "Oh how I do love Devil's Night. So much mischievous activities occurring, don't you agree Moran?" Julianne questioned her companion._

_ "Well, given the fact of what we are about to do…" his voice trailed off._

_ They stared at the girl struggling and crying, trying to get out of the robes and wires that bond her hands and feet together. Her gag muffled her pleads of mercy and the tears that soaked her face was very present._

_ "It's amazing how you can find one that looks so much like you except for the face."_

_ "Well, it isn't easy faking your own death these days."_

_ Julianne laughed at that. "We are really going to need to bash her face in well so no one can recognize her. Such a poor girl," she directed her attention to the little one near her feet. "I appreciate you dying for me. Thank. You."_

_ The girl only cried harder, and the teenager looked at Moran. "Make it look painful. We are making it look like Charles was seeking vengeance on me. I shall do the honors of bashing her pretty little face into bits of skin, blood and bone," she smiled._

_ "With pleasure, Moriarty."_

_ "Walker, Sebby. You know I don't like to be called that," she warned under her breath._

_ "Of course, my lady."_

_ The girl's world around her went black, only feeling pain, then nothingness. Her mutilated body was dumped into the river only to be found a day later. Her death was a brutal one, and her true name still goes unsaid, unknown._

As Julianne moaned in her unconsciousness, the memories of what happened after her fake death were revealed into her mind.

_"Yes, Mr. Rogers, I am still alive. Yes of course I told you I was faking my death! …No, I was never betrayed. Well of course it looked a lot like me, that's the point of faking your own death, you dummy! Uh huh. Uh huh. Yes, things are all in order. Now you better leave your position and get to the Pythons. Yes. Yes everything is all swell and dandy. Make sure that everything is running smoothly when I get back. Yes. Thanks Rogers," Julianne hung up her phone. It was only five days after her fake death, and her teacher was getting worried._

_ "Everything is in order, Sebby. I am ready to go," she said as she lifted her backpack off the dirty mattress. _

_ He solemnly nodded. "I'm glad you packed lightly. I am here to make sure that the next two years of your life is a living hell. You are to strip yourself away from fear, from sympathy, from sadness, and from sorrow. If you fail and keep these things close to your heart, your plan will fail," he said in a bitter tone._

_ "I don't even know what my full plan is-" she started._

_ "You will soon enough. For one thing, you will make sure that your brother's death does not go unavenged. The man most responsible is dead, but there are others."_

_ "Sherlock Holmes," a murmur escaped her lips. "Too bad he is dead. I would have killed him tenfold."_

_ "I would have also. But a promise was a promise. Sherlock jumped, and I called off my snipers. It is only an honor to do as Moriarty has said."_

_ "You sure were very loyal to him," she pointed out flatly._

_ "He saved my life numerous amounts of times. I owe him everything, and him giving me responsibly over you has made me proud. And I will do whatever I can to prepare you for what you need to do."_

_ Several months had passed, and during this period they had travelled all over Europe, discovering secrets and hidden plans, making allies with many different groups. It was in Russia that they spent the longest time. It was only then when Julianne and Moran discovered Sherlock Holmes was alive._

_ He had been hunting down Sebastian Moran's every move, trying to hunt him down and kill him. Moran was still a threat to Sherlock's friends in the detective's eyes. But Moran and Julianne together was what threw the genius off. He never knew there was another, and they were always one step ahead of him. In the end, he had always failed to reach them._

_ On a cold autumn day in Russia, it was only then when Julianne had gazed at a woman once thought dead. She had done her research on the infamous Sherlock Holmes when they found out he was alive, and she was alarmed at the woman she saw: Irene Adler._

_ Jesus, does nobody die in Sherlock's ring of friends? she thought to herself as she stared at this woman. She thanked everything holy that she had her phone on her so she could take pictures. This one day might come in handy._

_ Her mind skipped to the time she got sick. Sebastian had assumed that she had drunk contaminated water, and they could not visit the doctors. She was sick for ages, and her life was fading. But she somehow pulled through, often claimed that she saw a light. When she tried to explain this to Moran, he only shook his head in disbelief. And that was that._

Her mind skipped one last time to a memory that broke her heart: James Rogers's death.

_"Betray me, Rogers? How could you do such a thing?!" Julianne shouted as she lifted the bag of cocaine that he had stolen. "I thought- I thought we were partners! My right hand man!"_

_ "That's what I had thought as well until I found out what you were really doing," he snarled back._

_ "Which is what exactly?" Julianne asked angrily._

_ "What made you so angry? Why do you have the lust to kill now? You're not the same child as who I used to know."_

_ "I am not a child, and the person you knew before was a fake. A girl who had to hide who she truly was because of her oppressive parents!"_

_ "Your parents never paid any attention to you!" Rogers shouted back._

_ "Why do I have to make up excuses for you?"_

_ "Because what you want to do is sick. I thought we were just here for the money. I never knew what you planned to do with it! Build an army? Take down the British Government? Hell, you want to get access to nuclear weapons, Julianne! What you are planning is pure genocide. No, you want to make the human race extinct! Where the hell did this sick idea come from?!"_

_ "Sick…? SICK? You call me SICK? I can't believe I trusted you! I should have left you in the dark! No. I should have killed you sooner. Congratulations, Rogers. Is this what you want? You should have played a smarter game. I should have known you would have gotten feelings, gotten scared. In my organization, I can only have strong willed men. And you have proven to me that you're not one. So," she said as she pulled out the rope, "I will have the honor of taking your miserable poor life."_

_ Rogers was trapped in the shed near the riverside. Her trainer, Sebastian Moran had blocked the door, gun ready just in case he escaped. She approached him slowly, so slowly, and the matter was a struggle. She jumped him, slamming him into the ground with his stomach upright, wrapped the rope around his neck, and tugged the last breath out of him. As he wiggled and struggled below her, her grip got tighter and tighter, like a python killing its prey. Her breath was heavy and her body shook she was song angry. At last, Rogers struggled fiercely for the last time and then gave up, his body limp. He was dead, his mouth hanging open and his eyes already turned glassy. She held the rope against his neck for what seemed like hours until Moran came in to pick her up and carry her to the car. It was then that Julianne chose Sebastian as her closest ally._

_ "If you betray me, Moran, I will find a way to kill you. But I know you won't. You have served my brother well, and since his blood is in my veins, I know you will not betray me."_

_ "Yes, Julianne. I will be by your side till your very death…"_

Her dream somewhat shifted into something she had never remembered. This was not a part of what she had experience. She sat in a dirty interrogation cell with the word "SHERLOCK" written on the walls and even scratched into the mirror. She sat facing the mirror, and there were two seats in front of her, only one occupied. It was a face she had vaguely remembered.

"James, brother-" a gasp escaped from her lips.

"You are weak. You failed my you miserable dimwit. I thought you were stronger, I thought you could handle this job. Apparently, I have given it to just a girl."

"I am not just a girl, Moriarty, and you know this," she sneered. "I thought I have done you proud. I raised enough money in half the time you expected."

"AND YOU FAILED!" he yelled, slamming both of his hands on the table. The door opened behind her, and another man walked in.

"He's right you know," a familiar voice whispered.

"Shut up, Seb. This is between me and my brother."

"I am ashamed that I'm related to you!" said James angrily.

"Whatever, Jim."

"Enough," commanded Moran. "So here is how this is going to work. You are going to stop being so weak and you are going to fight for what you believe in. You are going to overthrow the government, and you are going to ally Britain with North Korea, Iran, amongst the others we have talked about. You are going to get ahold of their weapons, and you are going to start a nuclear war. And if you don't succeed, I hope you rot in the deepest level in hell. That is what you deserve anyways…"

"How could you say such a thing?" Julianne gasped, feeling very hurt.

"Because you have failed both of us," Moriarty answered. "It has been three months and all you have done was sulk and cry like a little baby," he taunted. "So get your ass up and get to work. You are way behind schedule and your army weakens."

"You two are both dead, how is this possible?"

"It would be wise of you not to think this is your consciousness haunting you. I want a war Julianne. We both do," Moran and Moriarty said in an ominous unison.

She bolted awake with a scream. Fury, angry, fear, and pure terror ran through her body all at once. She yelled out at the pain she felt, and in those yells there was one audible name:

Sherlock Holmes.


	17. Guns, Explosions, and Smoke

It was on a cool July day when Julianne Walker planned her striking date. She was furious, and she would have her vengeance upon the modern city of London. She had been in hiding for four months, and during that time only few remembered her, and fewer remained loyal to her. But in those few she could get what she planned accomplished.

The teenager smiled as she looked through the scope her Moran's favorite rifle. She decided to use this one for good luck, and through her scope she saw her target: a red stop sign. Julianne smiled when she thought back to the last few weeks.

It was her idea to break into the nuclear power plant in Sizewell. She and ten of her goons broke into the Sizewell plant, going through the depleted uranium rods that were to be disposed of in a pool of water. They stole three twenty-eight inch rods and Julianne had some important plans for them.

"Are the rods ready?" she asked impatiently in the walkie talkie that was strapped to her shoulder. She continued to stare down her scope, waiting for the answer.

Static was only present, then a voice broke through. "Almost ready boss. The dirty bomb will be launched soon," Thomas responded.

"You mean a thermal nuclear reactor. And everything is set up over here, am I correct? The C4 is in place in the sewer systems?"

"Yes, ma'am, that is correct. All you have to do is shoot the sign. Once you do it will ignite the explosion, and the whole building will blow up. It will get Scotland Yard's attention."

"As well as the government, since this is in fact a government building," Julianne added smugly. "I will tell you when to launch the reactor. Too bad I couldn't see Scotland Yard before its destruction. I guess hearing about it on the news will give me closure," she chuckled.

"I will wait for your call," the man on the other end stated.

She didn't answer and looked at her watch. _15:35, hmmm… Almost time._

During the ten minutes of her wait, she thought of the plan over and over again, making sure it wouldn't fail. She would blow up the government building in her view and bring out as many officers as she could. Then, when most of the officers were there, the depleted uranium would be launched at Scotland Yard at a high speed, over five thousand miles per hour, penetrating the building and making it into an oven of sorts. Anyone left in the building would be cooked alive, causing mayhem amongst the other officers. And then when they would find out what had happened, she would blow up the other stop sign further down, killing all of the emergency crew members. _Lots of death, lots of destruction. Moriarty would be proud. _

She laughed to herself, and then focused on her task. She looked at a flag to see which way the wind was blowing: west. Julianne glanced at her watch. 15:40. It wasn't a big deal if she fired five minutes early, so she cocked the rifle and with a moment of excitement in the air, she fired.

It didn't even take a few seconds until a deafening loud boom could be heard from all over London. A cloud of smoke and flames were ignited, and the explosion was huge. _Good good good… _she thought to herself as the flames engulfed the government building.

"I told you, Mycroft Holmes. You'll watch your precious city of London burn to the ground."

She picked up her walkie talkie. "Thomas, launch the thermal reactor now. Do it now boy!" she commanded with a heightened superiority. She felt amazing that so many people were going to die. Julianne Walker felt unstoppable, that nothing would ever block her way again. She cried out with joy hearing the first responders come to aid the people who were injured in the explosion. She got back down on her stomach and aimed for another sign a block away from the first one.

The sirens only got louder and louder, more police and ambulances were coming. She aimed her rifle, did her calculations to make sure she hit a bull's-eye on her target and waited. The first responders started to get out of their vehicles, yelling commands are searching for wounded survivors. She only smiled when she shot for the other sign.

But nothing happened. She sat their confused for many seconds when there was no loud sound of destruction she craved for.

"_What?_" she hissed loudly, and aimed again. Another shot was fired, and again nothing happened.

"WHAT?" she shouted into the air. She feverishly grabbed her walkie talkie and screamed at Thomas. "You piece of shit! You ruined everything! The second detonation was a_ failure_! What the hell happened?"

Quickly the man on the other end responded. "What do you mean it didn't work? I am a professional at this, and I know I did this right! And the reactor is not functioning properly! It's not going off!" he cried with anger.

"What did you say?! And who the hell would know about this and mess this up, hmm?"

"I was with three other men setting up the C4, my 'lady. And for this problem, it will take me a few more minutes to fix. You have suspected a mole in the Pythons for a while. Someone has malfunctioned my equipment, Ms. Walker! What if it was one of them? No, it has to be."

"How the hell do I know it wasn't you?" she shouted.

"Because I have been with you for four months, taking care of you, wanting you to come back and prove your worth. To show the world that it deserves to be ripped the shreds. Because I believe in your cause."

She dismissed his reasoning. "Get the thermal reactor working as soon as possible, and launch it! We can't have any more delays! Soon they will figure out something is wrong, and barely anyone will die!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Stop talking and get your ass working!"

Everywhere on the evening news, the events that happened on July 2nd, 2014. One building was bombed with what seemed to be with plastic explosives, another building rigged to blow, and not to mention the utter destruction of Scotland Yard. With the depleted uranium launched into the building, it cooked everyone inside. The news went nuts, everything was frenzy. People feared for their lives as a new terrorist roamed around their streets.

It was at the hospital where John and Sherlock watched the news. They came to visit Lestrade, who was still in a coma, and Sherlock had to pay another visit for his newly healed leg. Even though it had been months since he was stabbed, it still ached and hurt when he walked.

John looked at the television in pure horror as helicopters were flying around and filming live footage for the public to see in their own homes. Sherlock watched in anger, and spoke softly.

"She's back, John. I knew it wouldn't be long. And she is more dangerous than ever. We must watch our backs carefully."

"I understand. But oh God Sherlock! Scotland Yard! So many people have died," John whispered, his throat clenched and his eyes watery.

"Sherlock, we need to find her. Now."

"I- I don't know how, John."

"What do you mean you don't know how?" he asked with a sharp tone.

"I mean exactly what I say John," he looked at his companion with the same look in his eyes. His sharp, chilling blue eyes were now a dull gray, the whites of his eyes now a light red. They were both scared, and they knew it.

"In a line! Now!" Julianne screamed at twenty men in front of her.

One by one they lined up, waiting for what was to come.

"One of you have betrayed me and my cause, and I don't take that too likely. Sanders, Wethington, Andrews, Thomas, step forward now!"

The men did as they said, three of the four terrified but not showing it. The only one confident was Thomas, who stood tall in respect for the leader in front of him.

"You four were the ones assigned to the sewers to set up the explosives. The first one worked, yes, but the second, it was a _failure_. I believe in Thomas when he says that he did everything right. He has done this for longer than you fools have been in school for! So someone toyed with his creation, and that will lead to some severe consequences. So, mind confessing up now, or do I have to torture everyone in this room?"

"No need to do that, Ms. Walker," Thomas interjected respectfully.

"What do you mean?" she asked with authority.

"I mean, I think I know who it could have been. When we left the sewers that day, there was one that was behind me. It was only his that could have done it."

"And pray do tell me who this man is."

"Wethington was the one behind me. I have done my research for you, and he disappears at certain times of the day, completely gets off our radar. I assume correctly that he is the undercover mole you have been searching for."

"What?" he shouted, completely stunned. "But it isn't me! I didn't do anything!"

"Is that so?" Julianne walked over to Wethington, completely ignoring his excused. She silenced him with a deathly look she gave him. "Well, we are just going to have to teach you a lesson, then aren't we?"

She looked at him amused with a smile. "Lick my boots," she commanded. "Lick them. Get down on your hands and knees and praise me. This is your punishment."

Even she could see the relief on Wethington's face as he lowered himself to the ground. He put his face down and before he could finish the task she quickly backed up and pulled out her pistol. He looked up at her in a daze. "Your lesson is for the others, not you," she said quietly before she pulled the trigger.

Blood spilled everywhere and even splattered on some of the men behind. "This is what happens to you if you betray me. Death. The next one who does it will have tree branches shoved under their finger nails and cut to pieces, starting with the toes. Now somebody clean up this mess! And take out the garbage," she added while kicking the dead body. "Thomas, come with me. We have some planning to do."

"Yes, ma'am"


	18. Oh Charles, Dearest Charles

"Charles, you have a visitor," Agatha said as she knocked on his office door.

"Let them in," he answered, waving a dismissive hand.

"Alright, but I'm sure you're not going to like it."

The maid came back a few minutes later with one young woman. Julianne looked at the blackmailer with a smile on her lips.

"Good evening, Magnussen. Did you miss me?"

"Julianne," he gasped and stood up immediately. He quickly hid his surprise and straightened his suit. "How many I help you this fine day?"

"I came here for a reason of course, and I want you to expose the information about Irene Adler to the world. No need to sell it anymore, I'm done with the games."

"Julianne, I don't want to deal with your kind anymore," he stated blandly.

"Why? I have proven myself fully capable of what I can do?" she snapped. "Scared of the outcome?"

"No. I mean that I don't want you to be successful. Rumors have been going around of what you really intend on doing, and I want nothing to do with that. I may be a cruel man, but I don't want to blow up the Earth just because I had daddy issues."

Her glare at him could chill anyone to the bone. It was a deadly stare, and she was truly pissed. "You're going to regret saying that," she whispered hoarsely.

"Oh am I really? And why do you say that?"

She inhaled a deep breath of air and calmed down. She knew that Magnussen liked to get under the skin of others, and she sat down on the sofa near his desk.

"Tell me, Magnussen, how did you get so rich so quickly? I've always been so curious to know."

He cleared his throat and went to the cupboard. "Care for a drink? I have some smooth whiskey-"

"Not now please. I asked a question and I want a response," she rolled her eyes.

"How did I get so rich, you ask? Right place at the right time. My career started when I was younger, in my late teens. I saw an older lady commit something she shouldn't have done, I documented it, it turned out she was filthy rich, and I took advantage of it. It's all in the matter of blackmailing one with the right amount of money and the brains not to go to the police. That is all."

"How boring and lame," she muttered. "I want to tell you a story of a man named Harold. He was a nobody," she started when Magnussen sat down with a glass of his favorite whiskey. "He was a man that I saved from being killed. I was told to save him by my brother, Moriarty. You might have heard of him."

"Once or twice," Magnussen interrupted with a smirk.

"He, Harold that is, was a very interesting man. He knew so much about gangs and organized crime, I swear he could run a very successful one himself. But he was too scared and I could tell. He feared the power that could come to him, of all the money he could obtain. He had so much potential, and he gave it up in a heartbeat. Some may call him smart, getting away from the trade. I call him a fool. He was a brilliant man who could get away with it. But I am happy that he didn't. He trusted me and spilled out everything to me. He practically taught me all that he knew. And even to this day I am still grateful for it.

"You should have seen his face when he thought I had died. His life was a mess. You know, it was Moran that shot him. Moriarty commanded me to save him for the specific reasons of training me how to maintain his organization, the Pythons. When I faked my own death he died inside. He gave up his job that he had and went homeless. For two years he was like that until Moran came to him again.

"Harold didn't recognize it was him, the man who had shot him three years early. With Harold being a mental wreck, Moran was able to get his trust immediately. Harold was sick, having haunting dreams and tremors. There were days at a time where he couldn't stop shaking. Moran gave him special drugs to ease the pain a bit, but not to completely dispel the problem. Once Harold got a bit better, Moran let him on a little secret.

"You see, Magnussen, when I was 'dead' I received training from Moran. We traveled all around Europe, but we stayed the longest in Russia. Are you curious to know why?" Charles nodded. "It was because we both found out Sherlock Holmes was alive, and he was searching for him like mad. It still makes me burst into laughter about how the greatest detective in the world couldn't catch us.

"Anyways, when Harold had cleaned up his act, got his shit together, Moran had let him on the little secret. Sherlock had faked his own death. It was even my idea to put a spin on things. Moran told Harold that Sherlock had created Moriarty, that Richard Brook was real and only an actor. It was Sherlock Holmes that essentially created Moriarty, and it was Moriarty who had killed me. And the reason why he had killed me was because my 'boyfriend' named Charles as well," she laughed, "had hired him to since I looked at another man. I swear that boy was so childish at times, but I had to know who the representatives of the Pythons were like. And let me tell you, I was sickened.

"When I came back, I manipulated Harold from afar. I had him kill Liam, my fake father. He was a successful man because of one reason: he was the only other person who knew I was alive. I couldn't kill him off sooner because it would look suspicious. I had to pay him off somehow, so I gave him loads of money to remain quiet. But I knew he wouldn't do so for long. So Moran hinted to Harold that he knew something about my death, but not about what. Harold kidnapped Liam and tried to get out all the information. We knew he wouldn't say anything for Moran had blackmailed him earlier, saying that if he said anything, we would kill his ex-wife, Theresa. So Liam only said what he was told to say; to mention James Rogers, a friend of mine. And it was a beautiful death. Harold killed him off, not knowing he was getting his hands dirty for me, and not in the vengeful type of way.

"I wanted him to kill off the boy that I had once dated as well as the thugs that he was close with. I always hated those men. He was successful at that as well, and I was happy.

"I wanted Harold to kill of Sherlock so I could have my own revenge while he had his. Everything was perfect until Harold got smart. Yes, he spared Sherlock's life, and even I was surprised. They became partners, and I liked the idea. Maybe I just wanted to take the detective's life myself. I am that type of girl anyways.

"When Harold found out it was me behind the whole thing, you should have seen his face," she paused. "It was even heartbreaking to me, and that's saying something. But I had to kill him. There was no way he was going to live. But even I did something unexpected that night; I let Sherlock Holmes live. I don't know why. Maybe I wanted the challenge, maybe some excitement. But mainly, I wanted him to watch his brother's city burn. How would you feel if you home was burned to the ground, Magnussen? Would you feel as if you have lost everything?"

"Who wouldn't?" he asked back. "Is there a reason why you told me all of this?"

"Nope," she said nonchalantly and stood up quickly. "Well, I best be off. It is getting late and I sure do have plans!"

"I assume you know your way out?"

"Naturally, Charles, I am not a stupid one. I shall see you, well, I guess in Hell. See you in Hell, Magnussen."

Julianne Walker left and closed the door behind her. As she walked down the hall, Agatha walked beside her.

"If you go into Charles's office right now, take this gun and shoot him in the head. I will give you 100,000 pounds if you do so. If you don't, then I suggest you get out of this manor as soon as possible. It might just save your life."

She handed the maid her gun and walked off. In only a matter of minutes, a crack of a gunshot echoed in the house. She smiled as she left and pulled out her mobile.

"You have my permission to blow up the manor, my dearest Thomas."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered back.


	19. As the Sun Slowly Sinks Away

The lonely gentleman stared out of his window in his office, hearing screams of panic and the smoke rising from several places around London. He sighed, his hands shaky not from the coldness of his office, but of the fact that what one said came a reality. He never thought it would get this far, never thought that nobody would stop her. Julianne Walker roamed around the city with no retrains, and Mycroft Holmes only waited for her to barge into his office. He deeply inhaled once again and took a sip of his whiskey. The liquid absorbed into his tongue and the rest ran smoothly down his throat. He hummed in appreciation; it was his favorite drink.

"My God, Julianne, you have worked hard, waited so long for what you wanted to do. And you have been successful. You have squashed us all. What do you want next? The kingdom to bow down to you, praise you for beating us?"

He shook his head as he talked to himself.

"You killed my closest friend and I didn't even care. So many have died under your hand at such a young age, and you hesitate no more. You have the blood of Moriarty that runs through your veins, and I should have known about this mentality you contained."

He got up and walked the window, staring out of it sadly.

"Tell me, how did you know that he was my brother? Let me guess, Sherlock told you. I'm surprised that you two still talk," she responded quietly, the door creaking behind her as she shut it. "You know, you are right. Moriarty's blood runs through my veins, and I admit that I do have a strange way of thinking. But it's not only because it's who I'm related to. It is also because of my past. I went through a lot in the past few years, and I wanted it. But it doesn't matter now. Everything that I have cared for is now dead," she said quietly and calmly, there was no happiness or smugness in her voice; only sadness and despair.

"I think we can both agree on that this is your own fault. You wanted to do this," Mycroft turned to face her, looking only at her eyes.

"Yes. Yes it is. I don't even care anymore though. I lost my feelings when I 'died'. I told you before in this room actually that you will look at your window and watch the city of London burn. I have made sure that this was possible. I also told you that when I do that, you will be hanged in the closest I came out of. Let's fulfill that fully, shall we?" she added with a sad smirk. "I have killed so many without regrets, and you'll just be another victim in the war I wish to create. Just another person in the _way_. So no hard feelings, dearest Mycroft, but you have to go."

She knocked on the door behind her, and another man entered. The man looked vaguely familiar to Mycroft Holmes, and he looked a second longer than he should have.

"Problem, Mr. Holmes?" Julianne asked politely.

"No, just didn't think you would bring just_ one_ reinforcement," Mycroft said with a sense of humor and he chuckled.

"Are you saying that Thomas can't handle you?" she laughed. "He definitely could. I've seen him fight, and he's surprisingly strong. And you think you could beat us? Now you're just an old man sitting behind a desk for a living, thinking you can control the world under your fingertips. I'm sorry sir, but you have had one cake slice too many. Thomas," she said looking at her companion, "if you will please."

She and her ally slowly prowled over to the man near the window. Mycroft was calm and ready as he waited for his enemies to approach. As Julianne grabbed Mycroft's right side and Thomas his left, then he began to struggle. They gripped at him tighter, bruising his arms and sending sharp pains down to his fingertips.

It was only when they were able to get the noose around his neck that someone burst through the doors. Julianne turned around with a glint of annoyance in her eyes, but that all changed when her eyes landed on a tall man in a dark suit with sharp blue eyes. Only then her eyes went black.

"Sherlock, we meet again…"

The infamous detective's eyes wandered to Thomas and looked at him for a whole second. Then his focus snapped back at the teenager holding a rope around his brother's neck.

"Well, I see you have been busy with my brother. Always knew he was into some kinky sort of things. Brother," he nodded to Mycroft. "It has been a while, Julianne. What made you come back so quickly?"

"Quickly?" she responded with confusion. "It has been over four months since we saw each other last. Tell me, how is our dear Lestrade doing?"

"As I last recalled, that was none of your business," Sherlock said bluntly.

"That's all fine and dandy to me, just as long as I can smile at knowing that Scotland Yard is destroyed. And I do believe that the government is on its brink."

She pulled on the rope tightly to emphasize her point.

"I would advise you not to do that," Sherlock said low, dangerously.

"And why is that?"

"Because I will kill you before you could say the words 'world domination'."

"Ah, an empty threat I see. Trying to scare the little terrorist off?"

"More than just scare, let's be honest here."

"You still doubt me, don't you?"

"You haven't gotten far," the detective snapped. "Maybe if you were more interesting, more smart, you could have been successful."

"Wow," Julianne retorted blandly, "you really are as dumb as you sound. I can't believe people think you for a real genius. Want to know who the real genius was? My brother. But he was an idiot for dealing with such a pathetic human such as you. If I was him, I would have killed all your friends in a heartbeat with you watching, then execute you. Maybe that is something I will do. But you know, being busy and all gets in the way. I'll just kill you instead," she let go of the rope, letting it fall to the ground.

"The question is where though, and how. It certainly has to be epic," she completely ignored Mycroft by now.

In his pocket, Mycroft had accessed his mobile and texted his security officer. It only took a mere two minutes for him to run through the door. Julianne gasped, looked back at the politician and ran with Thomas.

"Until that day, Mr. Holmes!" she shouted behind her, not specifying which one she was talking to. The officer chanced after them without success.

"Brother," Sherlock said while helping Mycroft take off his noose. "You alright?"

"Are you asking me as a professional, or as my sibling?"

"Doesn't matter, now does it?"

"No, as caring is not an advantage my dearest brother. I am fine though," he responded, looking out the window with Sherlock by his side. "I have a feeling this will all come to an end soon."

"With whose side winning?" the detective asked lamely.

"We both know that that is not up to us."

"Naturally," Sherlock replied, focused on the sinking sun.


	20. Never a Revolutionist, Always a Terroris

"So, she just ran away, and spared both of your lives?" John asked confused, trying to make sense of what his best friend had just told him.

"Yes, which doesn't surprise me. She has other things planned, and Julianne still wants me to watch. More like her final hurrah she wants me to witness. And it will be big."

"Sherlock, are you scared of what may come in all of this?"

"What do you mean? Scared? I am never scared. It's only the under educated that get scared with something so pointless."

"But this isn't pointless. Not to you anyways, nor to anyone in this city. I have known you for years, and things have changed since Moriarty," he coughed uncomfortably. "But this needs to be talked about. I can see the pain in your eyes since you got back. Nothing has been the same even if you want it to be, but we both know that that's not going to happen. Everything is different now, and with Julianne in the midst of it, there is trouble."

"Since when hasn't there been trouble!" Sherlock snapped back, taking John by surprise. "Mycroft has always told me that caring is not an advantage, and I have suffered time and time again of the consequences of doing so. And then there's Harold. I never really considered him as a friend, just as an acquaintance, but it still shook me up when he was… killed. It was so brutal. The look in his eyes-"

"You're only going to upset yourself more, Sherlock. Yes, you need help. Actually, you need more than just help. But you cannot dwell on the past now. This is not the place for that."

"No, neither is any other time," he voice was hoarse. "John, I don't think I am going to survive this," Sherlock confessed.

"And why say that? Why say that now?" John asked concerned as ever. "You beat her brother, and in the end, as you said, she's only just a girl."

"Yes, John, but she's a girl with a fierce hate unlike which I've ever seen. She is more dangerous than Moriarty because she is not doing this out of boredom. No, she is doing it out of pure vengeance. She was brainwashed voluntarily at such a young age, already struggling through mental illness. She is smart and young; she can gain the trust of anyone easily who doesn't know who she is. Julianne Walker is a walking weapon of mass destruction, and she has proven it well."

"Then stop her," John remarked quietly.

"How? How can I?"

"You're the genius one! You know her better than anyone alive. You, Sherlock Holmes, are the expert on this. She has killed hundreds of people already and you _know _what can make her tick. You can find her weakness as you did with Moriarty. You can find it and rip it into pieces. I may just be a part of the average minded folk, but Julianne seems like the type of person that would kill off her weakness in fear of her being ruined, don't you think?"

"John Hamish Watson!" Sherlock shouted. "You are a genius!"

"I have a feeling I will only get that compliment once," he muttered, but was satisfied with the reaction.

"John, I have no idea where I would be without-" Sherlock's mobile interrupted him.

He swiftly pulled out his iPhone, unlocked it with his long fingers and opened the picture text that his phone received. The detective's eyes slowly widened with what he saw.

He saw a bloody woman tied to a steel chair with her black hair in a tangled heap on her head. Her white dress was dirtied with blood and other sorts of colors ranging from brown to green. Her head was hanging down; her slender body was limp in the chair she was bounded to. There was a trail of dried blood that came from her nose and mouth, in which deep red blood oozed down to her lap. It was a horrid sight to look at, especially since he knew the woman. The Woman.

Irene Adler looked like she had taken a bad beating, worse than he had ever seen in her position. From just the picture he could tell that she was in excruciating pain. He was shocked at the fact that she was found; his secret location for her was just that: secret.

But there she was, in front of his eyes, hurt and bleeding. A text message popped up and her feverishly opened it.

_Too bad she won't be the only one… Is that the sound of a school bell ringing just now? Hmm… I always found it adorable that the rich kids wear such posh uniforms…_

He stared at the message until the doctor felt the need to say something. He was growing concerned but didn't want to ask, but the need was too great.

"What, Sherlock? What has happened now?"

"John, I don't want you to get involved with this…" he warned slowly.

"There is going to be only one way we can do this, and it's together."

"No!" he shouted at John, and it echoed throughout the flat.

"Yes, now tell me what it is, now!" his best friend commanded back.

"You'll never trust me again, I know you won't. It's a secret that I have kept for the longest time and no one has ever found out, except for my enemies. And I will not tell you."

"Yes you will, Sherlock. You want to know why? Because you owe me. I thought you were dead for three years. Three years, Sherlock! And when you came back I waited in the shadows, knowing nothing of what had happened. Do not leave me in the shadows again. You know what happened last time."

"John, I lied to you about some things," the sleuth started.

"Well that was broad and obvious. I know that, but I was hoping you would go deeper."

"John, Irene Adler was never beheaded. She never died," Sherlock muttered.

There was a pause, then a light gasp from the doctor. "What? What did you just say?"

"Irene Adler is alive. I saved her from the terrorist cell before she died. We faked her own death and I put her into hiding in Russian since she would be safe there. Traveling to the Americas was out of our limits, so we traveled east. I know this is hard, John, but if I told you I might have risked her life again. You must understand."

"I do," he replied empathetically. "I understand completely. Now why are you telling me all of this now? Why is this so important?"

"Because Julianne has here whereabouts, and has taken her hostage."

He showed her the image that was sent to his mobile hesitantly. John held a hand over his mouth.

"She looks like she has suffered a lot."

"Much more than she ever should. And Julianne texted me something else. It's about rich schoolchildren in 'posh uniforms'. It's a clue."

"Well she is mentioning about a school…"

"So she already has her plan. Her last biggest thing before she moves on to complete destruction."

"Sherlock! Julianne is threatening children!" John cried with horror.

"Not just any schoolchildren, John. Rich ones. And it's not just rich ones either. Julianne Walker is going after politician's families. She already tore down the police, her next aim is the government, hitting them where it hurts."

"So which school is she referring to?"

"It's exactly one fifteen. There are three schools that get out at that time. Only one with the children of her target. Northridge Private Academy. We must go at once!"

"Oh precious children. Look at how innocent they are, Thomas. They don't know about the cruelties of life, the pain of the world upon their shoulders. How adorable. Thomas, you want to know what I think?"

"Yes?" he asked calmly.

"I think we should make sure that these beautiful children never see the hell of society. Maybe spare them of the pain."

"Are you trying to find a reason to recompense for your sins?"

"Is this a way of telling me that you're a religious man?"

"All I am saying is that your plan is twisted," he responded nonchalantly.

"What's the fun if I can't do little inhuman acts here and there? I am a terrorist as you well know."

"I thought you referred to yourself as a revolutionist."

"I've changed my mind. Thought the term was a bit dull if I say so myself."

"Ah," he only responded.

Thomas and Julianne kept walking until they reached a group of younger children who looked to be about six to seven years old.

"Hang back, Thomas, and go to our meeting location. You'll scare off the kids. And make sure the devices are ready this time. We can't have anything screwing up our plans!" she whispered to him harshly.

As she approached the unsupervised children, fifteen of them in total, Thomas slowly went back to the building two buildings away from the school.

"Hey guys!" Julianne put on the nicest smile and spoke softly. "You know, your teacher told me that we are going on a little field trip today. Isn't that exciting? So she told me to take you guys there. Okay?"

The children looked at her for a long while, and one of them finally nodded.

"Okay! You guys can call me Ms. Walker! I am here to take you on a tour of a cool and huge building!" she made hand gestures to emphasize her details. "Anyways, shall we get going?"

"Yeah!" the children cheered as they followed her to the building, unaware of what was about to come.

Julianne pulled out her mobile to send a text to her mortal nemesis, knowing that Thomas had sent the picture of a doll that looked much like Adler to him just minutes ago.

_Too bad she won't be the only one… Is that the sound of a school bell ringing just now? Hmm… I always found it adorable that the rich kids wear such posh uniforms…_

She laughed to herself as she hit the send button, and without another thought she slide her cell phone back into her left pocket.


	21. Last Words, What are Those Last Word

John was on his phone almost in an instant when Sherlock and him jumped into a cab. While his companion told the address in a rushed rude tone, the doctor called Mary.

"Hello?" a sweet soft voice was heard through his mobile.

"Oh sweet Jesus you're okay!" John exclaimed.

"Of course I am okay! What's going on?"

"Mary, Julianne Walker is about to attack the school. You need to get everyone evacuated from there. Now!"

"John, Julianne is here? Why would she be here?" Mary asked, her voice very shaky.

"She is targeting the kids of politicians. The school that she is attacking is yours. Find your students and get out of there immediately!"

There was a pause on the other end. "John, John I can't find any of my students. They were supposed to wait on the sidewalk for me to take them to a field trip after school. John!" she shouted.

"We are on our way! Do not panic, Mary. Sherlock and I will find them. We will be there fifteen minutes tops!"

"Driver," Sherlock said darkly, "step on it."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," the man responded, and the car accelerated.

"Hurry up, John! Please get here fast!" and the line went dead.

"Shit, she hung up! With Mary being Mary, she is going to search for them!"

"Don't worry, John. We will get there soon enough."

They both looked out the windows while the time passed. John tapped his foot in impatience while Sherlock drummed his fingertips on his knee caps. The doctor breathed through his nose to calm himself down, but his heart was in his throat and his eye sight already blurry. Sherlock was not much better. His mind raced, information flooding his mind and keeping him off focus of the task at hand. He sniffed and turned his head to look at the driver.

"How much longer?"

"About another five more minutes."

"Make it three," Sherlock commanded.

It felt like a lifetime until they finally saw the tall brick building of the Northridge Academy. Like John had told Mary to do, the children were already being ushered to safety, two blocks east of where the school was located. Sherlock had already called for the police, or what was left of them, and they both hopped out of the cab with determination.

Mary was at the doors of the school making sure everyone was out. She greeted her boyfriend with a kiss and a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said muffled in her shoulder.

"I am too. What are you going to do?"

"We are going to find her and put an end to this once and for all," Sherlock announced. He was sick of the games, sick of the brutality and damage of one single girl with a plan.

"She would have gone this way," Sherlock pointed to the west. "As much as she tried to hide it, she has a pull to somewhere that means something to her."

"Where is that at?"

"Her father's shredding company is just two buildings away from this one. Liam Walker's business. And I don't think she plans anything good there, especially with kids."

"Then let's go!" John ordered.

As they started to head off, Mary followed. "I want to go with you."

"No, absolutely not!" her boyfriend responded. "It is way too dangerous."

"And the kids need someone they know to keep them calm. I need to go with you."

"She has a point, John. But you remain outside while we go in," he directed towards Mary.

"Deal," she agreed, and they walked down the street with silence.

As they approached, everything was eerie silent. There was no one on the streets. It was as if the windy dark weather had scared the public off this block. All three ignored it as they made way to their destination.

The trio stopped in sync as John, Sherlock, and Mary reached the front doors. The lobby looked the same as it had before all those months ago when Sherlock had visited it last. The foyer was empty as the doctor and the detective slipped inside, leaving Mary outside.

Their footsteps echoed throughout the empty room and they looked around slowly.

"Well look who it is," a voice rang, resonating throughout the entrance. The voice had no specific location, it just surrounded the two. "I've been waiting for this…"

"I'm sure you have, Julianne. And I am sick of you. Where are the kids?"

"The kids? The _kids_? What kids?" the voiced asked back in a playful tone. "No kids here. Well, in this building there are. But not specifically here."

Sherlock shook his head as he looked at John. "See? Stupid games. I'm sick of them," he muttered to John but just loudly enough so Julianne could hear.

"Why don't you boys just come on in, make yourself comfortable. No need to be shy! You guys are going to have to take a couple more steps to actually find them…"

"We are not the ones hiding, Julianne," John said blandly. "And you are sick for bringing kids into this."

"Since when am I not sick? I think Sherlock would agree with me saying that there would be no fun without stakes!"

"I would have agreed with you four years ago. But everything has changed."

The two men walked into the building more, passing the foyer and going to the stairs located to the right of the building. They began to walk up when she responded.

"Well damn. I was hoping I would catch you in time for you to agree with me. I guess only my brother got the pleasure in seeing that."

"May I say how predictable you are, Julianne?" the sleuth asked.

"What ever do you mean?"

"Your father's business, Julianne? Could you be more foreseeable? I don't even have to think about this anymore, you are like a picture book!"

"I don't see how choosing my father's business is a bad place to end you. I hated the man more than anything, and he was one of the only people that knew my secrets. He knew I was still alive, and all he wanted was money. Such a sick man if I do say so myself. So I had Harold kill him off!"

"Since we are back on the topic of Harold…"

"Well that isn't a fun subject to talk about," she said as she popped out into the hallway in front of them. She pressed the elevator button and Sherlock ran towards her. But it was too late, the doors were already closing by the time he reached to the end.

"John, stay here. Let me take care of this."

"But Sherlock-"

"No, this is too dangerous now. Do me this favor just this once and _stay here_."

John Watson nodded, and Sherlock looked up at the floor that she landed on. He stepped over to the next elevator.

"John," he said as his best friend looked at him. "Thank you. For everything."

The doors closed in front of him.

Sherlock pressed the eleventh floor button as waited in pure silence. The lights above him buzzed and the machine crackled with noise. A soft ding was heard and the doors opened. The laughter of children's voices greeted him.

He saw a figure of a man waiting in the shadows, a man that Sherlock had seen before in Mycroft's office. He nodded solemnly to the man, and the man nodded back. He continued on to where the laughter was.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said, not looking up at him. She was dancing with another girl with blond hair and pig tails.

"Julianne," he acknowledged.

"Tell me Sherlock, what do you see when you look at these children? I see a figure full of innocence. But do you want to also know what I see? The future, where these kids grow up to be corrupt human beings, slaughtering each other and screwing each other over. I see a world of pain and hopelessness. And it disgusts me."

"So you want to end their lives now so the future can be saved?"

"Not just that," she said as she petted the girl's hair. "No, I have other plans besides just these children."

"I figured so."

"There's an effective weapon called the nuclear bomb, and it's about to become my best friend. You see-"

"Do you want to know what else you were best friends with?" he interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Actually, I do believe there were two. Harold and James Rogers. I think they were your only best friends."

"They were never my friends!" she snapped. "Merely allies!"

"And you killed them both because they only betrayed you?"

"Yes, they were traitors and I killed them!"

"And how was Harold a traitor?" he asked curtly.

She went silent for a moment, and Sherlock took this as a perfect opportunity.

"You want to know what I think? I think that you killed them off because you were afraid they were going to be used against you since they were your weakness. And in turn, their faces haunt you. You want to do so much damage, do whatever it takes to get them out of your head. But let me also assume that it is not working, that your mind is torturing you every time you close your eyes."

The room got darker with Julianne's mood. Her face was shadowed with hate.

"So, you try to killed everyone in your path and say you're doing it for a sick twisted way of saving humanity. You want to exterminate the whole planet because why? You had daddy issues and you never got to meet your brother that well?"

She was breathing heavily now, her eyes lit on fire with hate. "You want to know what I like, _Sherlock_? I like chemical weapons. Especially C4. You want to know what I don't like? Children, you, and this building. So I rigged it."

"Where is Irene Adler?"

"In all honest, I have no idea. You hid her well. I guess it's a good thing I can be so artistic."

Sherlock pushed the sigh of relief out of the way and focused on the children.

"Let's go downstairs and talk, shall we? Not in front of the children," Julianne spoke as she walked towards the stairs. "Thomas, supervise the kids!"

Sherlock walked behind Julianne obediently, walking down the steps and following her through the hallways that she knew so well. They reached an empty room.

"This used to be my father's office. It always was ridiculously big. But I guess he needed the space before he died. Sick fuck," she muttered as Sherlock came behind her.

"And how dare you bring up Harold and James like that so nonchalantly! They were never my friends, I never had friends. I only had one, and you shot a bullet through his brains!"

"He smacked my friend with a pipe. I would never let that slide." He walked more towards her, and she walked back to the door. Julianne faced her back to the entrance and scowled at him.

"If Lestrade had only done what I told him to and stepped down, he wouldn't be in a coma right now!"

"And if he had done that, you would have already gained control of Britain, and most likely would have killed millions, possibly billions of people by now! What made you this motivated to doing this? There was something that made you this way! What was it?"

"Excuse me? Do you not think that anyone can do this without some type of motivation behind this plan? How gross! I do this on my own with no reason."

"Bullshit," the detective spat.

"I do this because the human race is a mistake! We were never supposed to be here in the first place! Here we are, killing each other and our planet. We are too smart for our own good. I mean, just look at you!"

"So you think that gives you the right to kill those innocent children upstairs, the kill everyone in London, in England, in the world? There is more to life than death. I have experienced it myself. Throughout my life I have seen the inhumanities of our race, but I met so many who proved me wrong. We are here for a reason."

"And I am going to destroy it."

"I told you before in that restaurant that I will kill you before you do so."

"Then I will just kill you," she pulled out her pistol. "Finally! A moment to do this! I was going to kill you in the explosion, but I want to see the fear in your eyes before you die. They always say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Are you experiencing the same?"

She cocked her gun and aimed it at his chest. His arms were held up in the air. His eyes were wide and his swallowed deeply.

"I will take that as a yes."

Her index finger slowly moved to the trigger, time slowing for both of them. She smiled smugly and he started to close his eyes.

_BANG!_

The firearm was shot, and Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the pain. A soft moan came from across the room, and he opened his eyes. There was Julianne, but her pistol was on the floor as she clenched her chest. Blood started to ooze from the wound and she fell to her knees. A strangled moan escaped from her lips, muttering one word: Harold.

She looked up at the tall man with the high cheekbones and dark black hair. That was the last thing she saw before she fell down completely, letting out a deep sigh. Her blood pooled around her body, her eyes now glassy.

Sherlock looked at the man in front of him, the man that lurked in the shadows. And he only merely nodded, and disappeared once again.


	22. Epilogue

He stood over a grave once again, the sunk sinking in the west. What was different this time is that he was relieved. Relieved that it was over, that the destruction had stopped. He stared at Julianne's name, absorbing every detail of her gravestone into his mind.

"It's amazing how you got so far in," detective Sherlock Holmes noted as another man walked up behind him.

"I was surprised myself, to be honest," Thomas strode across from the tall man and stood in front of him. He also looked down at the gravestone.

"So, Officer Daniels, are they going to give you a raise at Scotland Yard?"

"How did you know that…" his voice trailed off.

"That the people at Scotland Yard when the thermal reactor device turned the building into a baking oven were evacuated? At first, I didn't know, but I will never admit it. I realized that you had made it far into her organization, and I knew you would never let your fellow co-workers die in front of your eyes. So you delayed the attack to make sure everyone left the building secretly, and you made sure that the second bomb didn't kill the first responders. It's a miracle how she still believed you."

"Julianne was desperate and she didn't want to know that there was another going to betray her. But I need to confess something. If you hadn't killed Sebastian Moran that day, we would all be dead. I would have never gotten so close to her. So as soon as Moran fell to the ground dead, her nefarious plan died with him. She didn't have a chance, no matter how hard she tried."

Sherlock hummed a laugh in response. "It sounds like you do need a raise. This most have taken a lot out of you."

Thomas Daniels sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "I do admit that I have seen a lot, and that I am going to move. Lots of therapy will be involved, that's for sure."

The consulting detective only nodded in response.

"I paid a visit to Lestrade. He is doing better now since he has woken up. Says he's going to retire. Your brother was there as well, although I don't know what for."

"I don't think any one of us will find out."

"No," Daniels agreed.

"Thank you for saving me, by the way. I meant to say that to you earlier."

"No need to, just doing my job. There were kids involved and I could not let it go on for any longer."

"Rightfully so."

"I came here to say goodbye to you. I thought you were such a dick when we first met at Liam Walker's crime scene, but it turns out I was very wrong. You, Mr. Holmes, are a great man. So I guess I should be the one thanking you. Adiόs."

"Goodbye, Thomas Daniels."

"Mmm, so do we finally have a dinner where no one interrupts us?" Mary asked humorously.

Her lover only smiled and sighed.

"It's a beautiful restaurant, John. Are we celebrating something? It's quite expensive here!"

"We are here to celebrate our love," he answered while pouring her another glass of champagne. "We are here because I love you, and I want to prove it to you."

"Well, you don't need to prove anything by taking me to fancy restaurants. You know what type of person that I am, and you know that I love you!"

"I know, Mary, but I brought you here for a reason."

"Oh yeah, and why is that?"

He stood up and walked over to her, kneeling by her feet. "Mary," he started. "Mary, will you be my wife?"

He produced a black felted box, and opened it in front of her. She gasped in surprised, and shook her head. Tears started to fill her eyes, and one escaped, trailing down her face. John looked at her puzzled, somewhat hurt.

"Oh God John, I mean yes! Yes and yes over again! I do!"

The tall man in a bathrobe sat in his usual leather chair, looking through the daily newspaper. He sighed deeply, slightly agitated at how bored he was. The fire crackled, easing his insanity somewhat.

His eyes fell upon an ad in the newspaper that sparked his attention. This case was definitely an eight. His picked up his mobile with haste and called a number.

"Hey, John."

{Cue in Sherlock Credit Music}


End file.
